Lost and Foundering
by HLynn
Summary: Buffy's return raises more questions than answers, as Willow's continuing unchecked use of magic strains her relationship with Tara. Meanwhile, Spike's feelings for Buffy are put through an unusual test.
1. Confusion

Title: Lost and Foundering  
Author: HLynn  
Home Page: http/members.  
Rating: PG  
Feedback: Yes, please!  
Archiving: Sure thing. Just let me know.  
Spoilers: Spoilers for Season 5, especially the finale, The Gift.

Summary: Buffy's return raises more questions than answers, as  
Willow's continuing unchecked use of magic strains her relationship  
with Tara. Meanwhile, Spike's feelings for Buffy are put through an  
unusual test.

Disclaimer: Buffy, et al, are the property of Whedon and Mutant Enemy.  
No infringement is intended, and the characters have been left unharmed.  
Well, mostly. ;)

Author Notes: While it's technically a B/S fic, it's not just about  
that. Or at least, that's what I was shooting for. :) Thanks go out to  
the Bloody Awful Poet's Society for the feedback on past fics, and to  
my friends at Club Spike for the support.

* * *

Chapter One

The streets of Sunnydale were quiet for a late Saturday night, the  
partying crowds of young teenagers and newly arrived college kids  
already home or gone elsewhere. No need to tell them that staying out  
late wasn't conducive to a long life--it was an understood necessity.

Especially since the Slayer of Sunnydale had died three months ago.

It wasn't a well-known fact amongst the townspeople; one day, the  
vampire threat was more than just a threat. Those who subconsciously  
counted on the Slayer's presence were in the midst of a rude awakening.  
Some had seen a motley crew of young people with weapons trolling the  
town, and even rarer still, a shockingly blond man prowling the  
cemetery. Very few connected the brief periods of respite to the group,  
and if they did, it was considered nothing more than damage control,  
not enough to stem the tide. Word of the Slayer's death had traveled,  
and vampires who previously shied away from the town now came to revel  
in her passing.

A cold wind blew through one of the residential streets in Sunnydale,  
rarer in late August than a day without the sounds of a passing ice  
cream truck. It swirled at a point in the Thompsons' backyard, and no  
one was around to witness the flashing of lightning and a pulse of  
brightness that faded to reveal a nude female form, crouched in a near-  
fetal position on the ground.

The young woman blinked and rose unsteadily to her feet, glancing at  
her surroundings. Then she covered herself as best as she could, her  
face showing that the reality of her situation was just now kicking in.

And with a voice that was heard by her alone, she muttered, "Oh, crap."

Things had changed significantly for Buffy's friends in the last three  
months. Not only did they have to keep up with an ever-constant vampire  
population, they also had to try to live their lives minus the one  
person who had helped link them all together.

Dawn's custody was the first hurdle needing to be jumped. They asked  
Angel to use his sources to try and track down Hank Summers, Buffy and  
Dawn's wayward father. After some searching around, it turned out that  
the company was also trying to find the missing man--he'd apparently  
embezzled several hundred thousands of dollars from the company before  
he went on 'personal leave time' with his current secretary. The trail  
went cold in the south of Spain...the best guess they had was that he'd  
made it into Morocco and gone elsewhere from there, under an assumed  
name.

When Dawn's assigned DCFS caseworker heard about this, and with no  
other family able or willing to take Dawn in, he began insisting on  
putting her into foster care. Giles was the first among the group to  
step up and argue that he could take care of her, but the courts  
wouldn't hear of a non-resident, unrelated male having legal  
guardianship over a teenage girl.

In the end, it was Anya who pulled it off. With steady employment, her  
own place to live, solid investment portfolios and a good credit  
record, she was granted guardianship until Dawn was legally an adult--  
or until a relative stepped in to take the girl. Unfortunately, Anya  
hadn't realized it meant living in the house after the deal was done.  
The first few days of cohabitation had been interesting, to say the  
least.

Since Tara needed a place to stay, thanks to Glory's efforts, she  
became a boarder at the Summers' home and her only rent was taking care  
of groceries and cleaning up the house. With Tara there, it helped free  
up Anya from the responsibilities of looking after Dawn every day, in  
addition to working full-time, making wedding arrangements, and finding  
time to spend with Xander. It also gave Giles enough peace of mind to  
sell his business to Anya and head back to England.

Giles' departure had been both expected and surprising. It seemed like  
he would always be around, yet Buffy's death had affected him to the  
point where he hardly contributed to the meetings, or instructed anyone  
in anything. The archiving project begun two years ago, when he  
originally planned to leave, was now finished. And with no Slayer to  
watch, and little interest in the day-to-day work of owning a magic  
shop, he felt detached, restless. Despite his insistence that after a  
week or two they wouldn't even miss him, there was a keenly felt gap in  
their meetings and a day didn't pass when someone didn't mention him,  
or wish he was there to answer a difficult question.

No Slayer had been called, so it appeared Faith was the only Slayer  
now. The original worry they had about the Watchers' Council  
interfering with either political string pulling, or with plans more of  
a fatal nature, faded when weeks passed and Faith was still safe and  
sound in her jail cell. Since she had little chance of getting out of  
prison soon, it fell to the remaining group to do the slaying in  
Sunnydale.

The big guns of the group were Spike and Willow, but only he was out  
every night, looking for action. She spent much of her time studying  
the now-digitized occult texts, or at her summer job at a local  
restaurant. The rest of the gang tried to create normal lives around an  
unnatural hobby, and taking care of each other as Buffy had wanted them  
to do.

Spike felt the cold wind blow that night, but didn't think much of it.  
In the past three months, he'd gone through his grieving, a bout of  
drunkenness, then reclaimed his duty to Dawn and began hunting nightly  
as a way to keep her safe and honor Buffy's memory. He paid a visit to  
her grave every night, keeping curious vampires away and preventing any  
sort of degradation to her gravestone or burial site. It was the only  
way he could think of to express his love for her, even after death. He  
could hope that somewhere she was watching with approval, but that was  
more of a fanciful romantic notion. The cold, hard fact was that Buffy  
was dead, and she wasn't ever coming back.

So the chill wind blew over his shoulder and across his neck without  
even raising a shiver. It was only the faint scent of something...he  
didn't want to call it human, much less of Buffy, but there it was. It  
was a mistake, though, just the product of an overactive imagination.  
It had to be.

Spike tamped out his cigarette on some fellow's burial statuary and  
dropped it next to the gravesite, joining others that he'd left there  
in the recent past. Time to get back to work. He let out an unneeded  
breath, and walked back into the dim corners of the graveyard, looking  
for anything to stir the heart of a vampire that had never felt so  
dead.

The disoriented and frightened young woman had no idea where she was,  
or how she got there. Although her memory was fuzzy, she knew that her  
parents would likely be in hysterics if she came back wearing no  
clothes and being out as late as it seemed to be. She could hear the  
tirade already.

Wary of running into anyone in her state of undress, she considered her  
options. She could hope that the people were home and were nice enough  
to take pity on her. If she wasn't in a nice neighborhood, however,  
then that wasn't a good plan.

She could hide in the bushes, hoping to see a police car go by and flag  
him down. Or flash him down, as the case was. God, she almost hoped she  
wasn't in L.A. What if someone she knew saw her like this? She's never  
live it down at school.

Well, she wasn't getting any help this way, and after a lack of any  
cars passing by, she decided to approach the house. She could only be  
grateful that it was nighttime, and that she wasn't in the front yard.  
The worry she had about her lack of memory faded in the fear of her  
present situation. Once she had the luxury of clothing and access to  
the phone, she could worry about it then.

"Um, hello?" she called softly, after knocking on the back door.  
"Anyone home?"

No answer came from inside, and the lights were still off. With a  
curiosity she couldn't stifle, she tried twisting the doorknob to see  
if it was open. Instead, she ended up ripping the knob right off.

Stunned, she figured it must have been old...except for the sounds of  
strained metal she'd heard right before it came loose. Now worried  
about the property damage, she tried shoving the knob back on the bolt.  
With a crack of splintered wood, the doorjamb broke and the door swung  
open, allowing passage into the house.

"Oh God. I didn't mean to do that!" She whispered, ashamed. How had  
she done that? The jamb must be rotten or something--it was the only  
explanation. Well, not the only one, but she wasn't entertaining any  
other ideas at the moment.

She stepped inside, praying the people inside could forgive her for  
breaking their back door. Mom and Dad would pay for it of course, but  
boy, was that going to come out of her allowance.

Still dark, and still quiet. She looked over the room before closing  
the door behind her, recognizing it as a kitchen. A calendar hung on  
the wall next to the door, and it said...

No. That couldn't be right. It was just--wrong. A joke, or a dream, or  
something. Something other than this Twilight Zone episode she was  
living through. It was not August, and it certainly wasn't the year  
2001. As if she'd miss five years of her life!

She wiped away sudden, lonely, and desperate tears. "I just wanna go  
home," she mumbled only to herself, scared of what was going on. But  
somewhere deep inside, a part of her grabbed hold, causing the tears to  
dry up. She had to find out what was going on, and crying wouldn't help  
solve this problem.

Taking a good look at the calendar didn't allay her fears of  
authenticity, but it did show that for two weeks in August, the family  
who lived here had planned a vacation in Mexico. She had no idea what  
day it was, but the possibility that no one was home made her feel both  
relieved and nervous. She hoped they didn't have a security system.

She crept to the front door, found a coat rack and grabbed a woman's  
beige trench coat from one of the hooks to wrap around herself. With  
some modesty gained, her confidence trickled in enough for her to check  
upstairs and make sure no one was home.

"Hello? Anybody home? I'm not a thief or anything, and if you heard a  
loud cracking noise I'm really, really sorry about that," she called  
out. With no reply forthcoming, she peeked into each bedroom and found  
it empty. The first two were obviously occupied by boys, and the last  
one must be the parents' room. Hopefully the mother was about her size,  
but if not she would make do.

A quick search through the drawers and closet produced a black tank top  
and pair of khaki shorts that didn't look very expensive or new. The  
woman was a large versus her small frame, and probably about five  
inches taller, but with some fiddling they would work.

When she looked at herself in the nearest mirror, she gasped at the  
sight--not from the clothes, but rather from the face staring back at  
her. Small lines were forming around her eyes, and the oversized  
clothes made her looker even thinner than she was. The girl inside  
didn't recognize this woman she was staring at, and it scared her in an  
entirely new and unexpected way.

Closing her eyes, she focused on the one thing she knew for certain--  
she was Buffy Summers, daughter to Joyce and Hank Summers, and that was  
true whether she was in some kind of Twilight Zone rerun or not.

A sudden idea came to her, and she embraced it more for logic than  
comfort. Rather than living through the plot of an old TV show, she  
merely had forgotten the last five or so years of her life. Terrifying,  
but there was some relief at the thought--if it was true, then it was  
only a matter of regaining those memories. First, however, she had to  
figure out where she was, and whether she even lived around here.

More searching uncovered a phone book, old junk mail and some maps,  
showing her that she was in Sunnydale, a couple of hours from where she  
lived. Or used to live, if that was the case. She decided to call her  
house to find out for sure, and she could only hope her mother picked  
up the phone. Instead, she received a prerecorded message that the  
number didn't exist.

"Okay, that didn't work," she said softly, and moved the phone book  
over to the window. She didn't dare turn on the lights, in case the  
neighbors saw it and assumed she had broken in. The fact that she had,  
in fact, broken in was something she didn't want to dwell on just yet.

Her eyes spotted it in an instant. Summers, Joyce, 1630 Revello Dr. She  
let out a deep breath she hadn't realized she was holding, and went  
back to the phone to call the number.

Her finger paused on the first digit. What would she say? I can't  
remember the last five years of my life, and I don't have any clothes,  
so could you come and bring some? And why was it listed under Joyce,  
and not Hank? Summoning up her courage, she continued dialing and  
waited seconds that seemed stretched into minutes.

Three rings, then four. A click on the other end came through, and she  
heard the whirring sound of an answering machine. She nearly sighed in  
frustration, but then a young female voice began to speak.

"Hi, sorry I'm not home. You must have just missed me or something, and  
considering my active social life, that's entirely possible. Kidding!  
Anyway, when you hear the beep--well, you know what to do."

Buffy heard the beep, said nothing for a couple of heartbeats, then  
decided to hang up. Who on earth was that, and why was she on her  
mother's answering machine?

Dawn rose clear and bright that morning, and Willow shut her eyes  
against the encroaching light coming through her bedroom window. Last  
night had been an all-nighter cramming with Giles' old scanned-in  
texts, looking for a way to circumvent a necessary--yet incredibly rare  
and expensive--ingredient for a spell she had uncovered. She figured if  
cooks could do substitutions in recipes, why not witches with spells?

But in this case, it didn't look like it was going to happen. Nothing  
else came close to it, and the one record of a witch who'd tried  
substitution for it had disappeared into the maw of a giant, teeth-  
ringed hole that had closed and vanished after consuming the  
experimenting witch. Willow had no desire to end up with a similar  
fate, so she'd given up and dragged herself into bed.

Tonight it was her turn to patrol, although she knew it wouldn't be  
done alone. Spike had almost become a friend that way, and she didn't  
really mind. Xander might still be on the defensive regarding Spike,  
but after several nights of him guarding her back, it would have been  
rude to not give him some respect and overtones of friendship. That  
he'd actually reciprocated was amazing in itself, but she wasn't going  
to look that gift horse in the mouth. She'd take whatever goodness  
she could get from him while it lasted.

Groaning, she decided to get dressed, despite the fact it was her day  
off. Originally, she had wanted to intern somewhere this summer, but  
the prospect of a lack of decent pay, long hours, and horrendous  
commute had her waitressing at a local restaurant, earning good tips  
while coming home with numb feet.

Willow packed up a bag of spell components and headed over to the  
Summers house to meet up with Tara. Last night had been a 'me time' for  
the two of them, so while Willow studied, Tara went out with friends to  
see a movie. They had planned on doing some spells together today, and  
Willow had no intention of letting her lover know what sort of spell  
she had been trying. It was bad enough that Tara knew as much about her  
'testing' as she did--it was better for both of them if she didn't know  
the extent of her experiments.

As Willow walked, she absorbed in the sights and smells of the early  
morning; dew clinging delicately on blades of grass, morning air not  
yet tainted by the fumes of cars starting their daily commute, and the  
sleepiness of the households she passed on her way. She shook her head  
as a thought ran through her mind--how oblivious they all were to how  
close to death they had been, just a few months ago. If not for  
Buffy...

She stopped herself, knowing that only sadness and pain waited for her  
down that path. It just wasn't fair. And no matter how much she wished  
it had been different, nothing could change the fact that her friend  
was gone.

Shaking away the melancholy, she continued on, ignoring the tempting  
thoughts of what her skills in magic could provide to alleviate that  
pain.

Buffy woke up in the parents' bed, having gotten only a few hours  
sleep. It was still early enough that she could sneak out without  
anyone being the wiser, so she gathered up everything she needed, made  
sure the note about the back door was on the kitchen counter--she was  
still amazed at how easy it had been to move a large piece of furniture  
in front of the door, so it wouldn't open in a strong breeze--and used  
a key from one of the spare key sets hanging on pegs in the kitchen to  
lock the door once she left. Once outside, she tossed the spare house  
key under the doormat and sauntered away like she belonged there.

No one was up yet, thank goodness. Buffy took out the map and looked  
again at her destination--a good seven blocks away, but it wasn't as if  
this town was Los Angeles. It actually looked quite nice, with the sun  
rising and all. A walk across town wasn't nearly as bad as it had  
seemed last night, and she almost began to smile. In a matter of  
minutes she would be home, and her mother would help make things right  
again.

The inhabitants of the Summers' home were still asleep when Willow  
arrived. Dawn came to the door in a sleep-induced haze, squinting at  
the over-zealous witch.

"Willow? It's not even seven in the morning, yet."

"I know, I just got an early start, that's all. I didn't feel like  
puttering around at home," Willow replied, and the realization of how  
truly early it was filtered in. "Oh, I'm so sorry! I didn't mean--I  
should have--"

"Just come in," Dawn waved blearily, not up for an extended  
conversation. "If you want breakfast, there's some Pop-Tarts in the  
cupboard."

"No thanks," Willow smiled, trying to be as polite as she could. "I'll  
just sit in the living room, really quiet, like a mouse. You won't even  
know I'm here."

Dawn grunted out, "Whatever," then disappeared back upstairs. In the  
meantime, Tara had woken up and in lieu of questioning a barely-awake  
Dawn, came downstairs to see who had come in. The two witches smiled  
instantly when they saw each other, and Tara took Willow into the  
kitchen to talk.

"Dawn stayed out late with some friends of hers, and she knows better  
than that. Anya's over at Xander's, and if either of us had been home,  
she wouldn't have stayed out so long." Tara started to make tea for the  
both of them, and she asked, "What's up? Is something wrong?"

"No, nothing's wrong...I just woke up early and couldn't go back to  
sleep. I missed you," Willow said, and Tara smiled softly.

"I know. Missed you too. But once the school year starts, we can move  
back into the dorms."

Willow's smile at the thought tapered off. "It won't be the same  
without Buffy, though. It doesn't seem fair that she didn't even get to  
finish college. She didn't get any breaks in her life--and now Dawn..."  
she trailed off, unable to continue. The microwave beeped softly, and  
Tara fished out the two mugs and handed one to Willow.

"I know, honey. I know. But you're aware that resurrection's forbidden.  
We've had this talk already," Tara replied, adding sugar to her tea.

Willow stared at her cup as she bobbed the tea bag around before taking  
it out, then answered, "I understand, I really do. It's just...Buffy  
didn't deserve this. She should've had a normal life, where she could  
just be a normal girl. She wanted that so much."

"Sometimes life isn't fair. For us it seems wrong, and harsh, but  
that's how it is. She was chosen to be the Slayer because of who she  
was, and once it was done, it couldn't be undone. Whatever chose her  
did so for a good reason, and we're alive because of that reason."

"But...but if that's so, then why did she die, when she's still needed?  
Faith can't be the Slayer since she's in jail, and without Buffy we're  
barely treading water, so to speak. If these Powers That Be have  
everything in control, then why is everything so topsy-turvy?"

Tara had no immediate answer to that. After taking a long, thoughtful  
sip of her tea, she replied, "I don't know why. But just because we  
can't see it, doesn't mean there isn't a pattern, a reason for it all.  
We have to wait and be patient. I'm sure it'll become clear in time."

"It's been three months already. How much longer do we have to wait?"  
Willow asked, her sorrow mixed with anger.

The doorbell rang, startling the both of them. Tara tried to smile  
through the awkwardness, "Maybe that's your answer?"

Willow grinned at Tara's light tone, and blew out a tense breath.  
"Yeah, maybe," she said wryly, then went to answer the door.

Buffy was starting to think this had been a monumentally bad idea.  
First off, this house didn't look like anything her mother would own.  
Second, she didn't recognize the car in the driveway, but a rational  
part of her mind said it didn't mean anything. However, the same girl's  
voice she heard on the answering machine last night called down to  
someone named Willow, asking her to answer the door.

God, what if her mother had moved? What if these people didn't know  
where to find her? And the police--they helped find missing people, but  
what if you needed to find people who weren't actually missing, just  
misplaced? Could she find her dad, if they really were divorced?

The locks rattled, and Buffy instantly tensed up. Maybe it wasn't so  
bad, maybe her mother had just taken in some girls who needed a home...

And then the door opened on a redheaded young woman she'd never seen  
before in her life. However, the other woman's eyes flew open in shock.  
For some reason, Buffy couldn't help noticing her skin was incredibly  
pale.

"Hi, I'm sorry to come over so early, but I...I'm trying--"

"Buffy. Oh my god. Buffy!" She looked like she couldn't decide whether  
to hug her violently or put her under a microscope. "Is that really  
you?"

"Well, yeah, it's me. Buffy Summers. Um, do I...know you?"

Relief and joy faded into pain and confusion. "Buffy, you--you don't  
remember me? Willow? Willow Rosenberg?"

Buffy looked at her in sympathy. "No, I'm sorry, I...I don't remember  
anything, really. I mean, I remember who I am, but the last thing I'm  
sure of is living in Los Angeles with my mom and dad. Does...does my  
mom live here? Do you know who she is?"

The girl called Willow looked even more grim and sad than before. A  
taller, blonde woman was now walking over, wearing the same stunned  
look on her face. Willow turned to her and said, "Do you remember  
Tara?"

"No, I don't. I'm sorry," Buffy was trying not to cry. At least she'd  
found people who knew her, but it still didn't solve her main problem.  
"Is my mom here? I really need to see her."

"Buffy, come in," Tara said, holding out her hand. Buffy walked inside  
and felt the young woman's hand guide her into what must be the living  
room. Or family room, considering there was a TV in it. "You're in the  
right place. Just sit down and we'll get you something to drink. What  
would you like? Water, tea? There's orange juice, too."

"Orange juice," Buffy replied as she sat down on the couch, growing  
worried over their solemn behavior. "And I'd like to talk to my mom,  
please."

Willow glanced at Tara, then folded her hands. "Buffy--"

"Where is my mother?" Buffy cut her off, frightened at how they weren't  
answering her question.

The redheaded woman gave her a pained expression. "Buffy, your mom,  
she...she had surgery to remove a brain tumor, and even though we  
thought everything was fine, it wasn't. She died six months ago."

Willow wasn't sure her words were sinking in, until Buffy's eyes  
started to tear up. "She...died? My mom is dead?"

This was just too unbelievable, to have Buffy here, alive. It was  
almost like a dream, a painfully good one. Unfortunately, it appeared  
that she didn't remember the past five years or so. What made her  
memory loss so horrific wasn't so much the fact of it, but that Buffy  
would now have to relive through all her past losses and trials. "I'm  
sorry, Buffy. I'm so sorry. I guess I shouldn't have told you so soon,  
we should have waited--"

"No, I asked," Buffy said quietly, with almost too much composure. "How  
did she die? Was it from another tumor..?"

"No, no...I think it was an aneurysm. A blood clot in the brain, to  
simplify it, but it was quick and painless. She didn't suffer."

"What about my dad? Where is he?"

Willow smiled apologetically; her father's exact situation could wait.  
"He's overseas, somewhere, but he's okay. And Dawn's upstairs, she'll  
be happy to see you."

"Dawn?" Buffy's look of incomprehension made Willow very uneasy.

"You know, Dawn...your sister. Don't you--? You don't remember her. Oh  
boy." She looked up at the other wiccan and asked, "Tara, you  
think...?"

She nodded. "The spell. It probably ended when she--" Tara made a vague  
hand gesture, but Willow knew she meant the jump from the tower.

Buffy wiped her eyes, looking at them like they were crazy. "What do  
you mean, 'the spell'? And I don't have a sister, I know that much.  
At least, I think I do. I remember being in high school...," she  
trailed off, and Willow followed her gaze to see Dawn at the foot of  
the stairs, staring at them.

Tara started towards her. "Dawnie, how long have you--?"

"Long enough." Her eyes were haunted, and she looked about four years  
younger at that moment. "Buffy, you don't...you don't remember me?"  
Dawn's voice cracked on the last word, her tears of relief and fear  
taking over. Buffy glanced at Willow, not knowing what to say. Willow  
tried to give her a supportive look, but this was hard enough for her  
to comprehend, herself.

Finally, Buffy cleared her throat and replied, "The last year I  
remember is 1996. I was living with my mom and dad in LA. And now it's  
suddenly the year 2001, my mom is...my mom is gone, my dad isn't here,  
and I don't remember any of you. I'm sorry, I want to remember--" Her  
voice broke, unable to stop the sobs from coming this time.

Dawn walked over to her sister's side and sat down next to her. "It's  
okay. We're here, and we love you." She reached out a hand and started  
to stroke Buffy's hair, like Willow had seen Buffy do for Dawn on  
occasion. "I can't believe you're here. It's a miracle. Willow, it has  
to be miracle. I mean, you didn't do this?"

Willow shook her head in wonderment. "No, Dawn, I didn't." She glanced  
over to Tara, then added, "Unless the Powers That Be have a really  
weird sense of humor."

Buffy stopped crying long enough to ask for something to drink, and  
Tara left to get it for her. Now that she had a hold of herself, kind  
of, she could recognize things in the room. Mom's desk, her favorite  
sculptures on the shelf of the fireplace, and a picture she'd hung in  
their old family room. She stood up and wandered around the room,  
looking at the photos on the wall. Some she recognized, but that girl  
Dawn was in them. How could that be?

The ones she didn't recognize unnerved her the most. Her mother, older.  
Her and Dawn, in what must have been a more recent photo, but Buffy  
still didn't own the face in the picture as hers.

"How long have I been gone?"

"W-what?" Willow replied nervously.

"I must have been missing for awhile. Dawn said it was a miracle." She  
turned and folded her arms. "Did I...leave? Or was it an abduction, or  
something?"

"You've been gone for three months," Willow answered, and then Tara  
returned with the orange juice, which Buffy took gratefully. She hadn't  
dared take any food from the Thompsons'.

"Can I, can I see my room? I mean, my stuff, is it here?"

Dawn, Willow and Tara shared another one of those looks that was  
starting to get on her nerves, and then Dawn smiled weakly, almost  
embarrassed. "I couldn't bring myself to change anything. It's all  
still there, as you left it. Well, I picked the clothes off the floor,  
you kinda made a mess...but that's okay. I'll take you up there and  
show you where it is. Tara's been staying in Mom's old room, to help me  
out and stuff."

Buffy smiled at Tara, already liking the woman. Willow, too...although  
she had no memory of her, she felt at ease around her, comfortable. She  
could see how they'd become friends. "Lead the way. I really need to  
change out of these borrowed clothes and find something a little bit  
more this century."

Willow and Tara convened in the kitchen as Dawn gave Buffy the tour. To  
say they were overwhelmed was an understatement. "I can't believe it.  
Buffy was dead, we buried her...how did she come back?" Willow breathed  
out. "And what if she's not a Slayer anymore? She doesn't remember  
being a Slayer, at least."

"She'll need to find out eventually, though. About everything."

Willow frowned, then nodded. "You're right. Oh God, what if...what if  
doesn't remember because those memories are gone, and she can't get  
them back?"

"I think we'll know. If her amnesia is permanent, then maybe that's for  
the best. You were just talking about how her life had been unfair, and  
that she didn't get to be a normal girl. Maybe 'They' were listening  
and decided you were right."

"Just like that?" Willow arched a doubting eyebrow. "No, there's  
something else going on. Oh! I have to call Xander and let him know,  
and Giles, and...and Spike."

Both of the witches grew silent at that. It was Tara who broached the  
subject first. "He was pretty broken up when she died. How would he  
take it if he knew she didn't remember him? Or remember being the  
Slayer?"

Willow shrugged helplessly, not too sure herself. "I couldn't keep  
something like this from him, though. He's been a big help, and he  
loved Buffy--loves Buffy," she corrected. "I'll be the one to tell  
him."

Tara hugged her arms. "Well, he can't get here now, it's past  
sunrise...and if last night was like his usual nights, he'll need to  
get some sleep."

"Tell me about it," Willow sighed. "Yeah, it can wait, at least until  
we can get more answers. Plus we don't want to overwhelm her so soon. I  
want her to feel like she can trust us."

The other witch absorbed this thoughtfully, then said, "We still need  
to tell her about her life, though. You could start with the first  
couple of years in Sunnydale. Between you and Dawn, I'm sure you can  
answer anything she wants to know."

"Yeah, that's true," Willow smiled, finally letting go of the fear of  
the unknown and embracing the happiness of her best friend's return.  
"It'll be okay, for once. I'm gonna make sure of that."


	2. Home

Lost and Foundering  
  
  
~**~**~  
  
Chapter Two  
  
~**~**~  
  
  
Of all the rooms in the house, this felt the most familiar. She   
remembered most of her stuffed animals, including a well-worn Mr.   
Gordo. There were a few tops and skirts in the closet that she   
remembered buying not so long ago, but the majority of it was   
unrecognizable. Dawn helped her pick out something moderately trendy,   
then Buffy retreated into the bathroom to wash away the feeling of   
grime on her skin.  
  
The shower was also a subconscious attempt to scrub away the recent   
developments in her life. A raw, hollow spot in her heart ached at the   
loss of her mother, and it upset her to think that she'd forgotten   
something like that. Maybe that's what happened...she'd broken down in   
grief and wandered away, leaving her friends and family behind. But   
that didn't make sense, since it didn't explain why she had been naked   
and only seven blocks away from her house. Plus she'd been gone for   
three months. Three months! They had probably thought she was dead.  
  
She needed to find out what had happened, and why. With help, she could   
hopefully rebuild whatever life she'd left behind. God, she didn't even   
know if she had a boyfriend or not. Her friends were one thing, but she   
didn't know how she was going to deal with an unfamiliar and unknown   
man who loved her.  
  
The shower left her body clean and refreshed, but mentally she felt as   
if she'd already aged those five years. She couldn't handle this, she   
was just fifteen...no. She was twenty, now. Even in the fogged up   
mirror, the difference in her face was obvious.  
  
Buffy looked at her hands, glad that they weren't so different...and   
then she noticed that a scar was missing. It had been just below her   
inner wrist ever since she was seven, when she'd taken a spill off of   
her bicycle. It was a faint one, barely noticeable, but it wasn't there   
at all. Frowning, she checked for other childhood marks and scars, and   
came up with none. What on earth was going on?  
  
In a daze, she went into her room, got dressed, and came down the   
stairs in a rush, growing ever more concerned and distressed by the   
minute.  
  
  
****  
  
  
"I want to know what the hell's happened to me," Buffy said as Willow   
approached her. Her arrival in the kitchen had surprised the two of   
them, and now they were worried at the stormy look on their friend's   
face.  
  
"Buffy, what--?"  
  
"My scars are gone. Not faded, *gone*. Dawn said it was a miracle I was   
back, but it's been three months, and I only remember coming to in the   
backyard of someone seven blocks away, buck naked and not knowing where   
the hell I was. I broke into their house somehow, and discovered where   
and when I was. I thought I was in some sort of Twilight Zone episode,   
you know? Then it turns out I've aged five years that I don't remember,   
I have a sister I don't recall ever having before, and now my scars are   
gone.  
  
"What happened to me? If you're really and truly my friend, Willow, you   
won't lie to me about this. I want to know, I-I *have* to know."  
  
Willow stood up and gave her a hug, one that she'd forgotten to give to   
her friend when she'd first arrived. Buffy sagged into the embrace   
after a long moment, and Willow murmured softly, "I think it's time to   
tell you, then."  
  
Pulling away, she said over her shoulder, "Tara, could you call Anya   
and let her know what's happened? See if you can call Xander, or have   
Anya do it--the foreman's more willing to put through one of her calls   
than one of mine. I'll call Giles later, once I figure out what time it   
is in England."  
  
"England?" Buffy repeated, a little amazed. "Was I in England?"  
  
Willow grinned. "No, silly. Giles is from England. Don't worry, it'll   
all be explained soon. And I guarantee you're not gonna believe half of   
it."  
  
  
****  
  
  
Willow had been right. She couldn't believe it. "So you're saying I'm   
this Slayer, chosen by some mystical Powers That Be or whatever, in   
order to kill demons and vampires. And Giles was this British guy who   
watched over me, and you, me, and some guy named Xander met in high   
school."  
  
The redheaded woman had the nerve to nod in agreement. "Exactly, more   
or less. You were called when you were still living in LA. That's   
probably why that's the last thing you remember--I'd bet money that you   
were called the very next day after your last memory."  
  
"But...vampires and demons don't exist. I mean, this *is* a joke,   
right? A 'Slayer'? C'mon! That sounds like an 80s rock band or   
something. Actually, I think it was," Buffy frowned as she thought   
back.  
  
Willow sighed, obviously distressed. "You're going to need proof. I   
guess I should have expected that." She got up and went over to a chest   
sitting in the family room. Buffy followed curiously, and leaned in   
when Willow bent down to lift the lid. The contents made her jump back   
in horror.  
  
"Those are weapons! Big, pointy, and *sharp* ones...and there's a lot   
of them. Uh, why d'you guys have these? Or should I even ask?"  
  
"They're yours, Buffy. You've got more up in your closet, by the way.   
And that's just for starters. You're super-strong and heal faster than   
normal people. You have the ability to sense vampires, though I'm not   
really sure how that works. Might be something like spider-sense, you   
know, or super-hearing."  
  
"Uh huh," Buffy folded her arms, not believing that she was listening   
to all this. "And do you have superpowers, too? Or is it just me?"  
  
"Tara and I can do magics, since we're witches, and I do the odd hack   
now and then. More then than now, admittedly, but still, it's there. Do   
you want me to show you something?"  
  
"Sure, why not?" Buffy shrugged, letting her have her fun. Willow   
smiled and concentrated her gaze on a paperweight on her mother's desk.   
Slowly, it began to rise, and Buffy's eyes nearly bugged out of her   
head. "Oh my god. You, you're lifting it! How?"  
  
"Like I said, magic! Don't worry, I'll put it back." And sure enough,   
the paperweight drifted back onto the desk. "That's a simple one. I can   
show you something more complex...?"  
  
"Maybe later, when I'm not feeling so woozy," Buffy replied, and sat   
back down on the couch. "So I have super-strength, huh? That explains   
how I broke the back door at the Thompsons' house, at least. I thought   
the wood was just rotted out."  
  
"No, it's the Slayer strength. There's more, but I'm gonna let Giles   
tell you when he eventually gets here. I don't know much of anything   
about Slayer training."  
  
Buffy gave the nervous witch a consoling smile and said, "I know this   
isn't an easy question, but I have to know...what happened to me three   
months ago? Why was I in someone's backyard with no idea how I got   
there, and most importantly, why I wasn't wearing any clothes?"  
  
"I...can answer the first question, but the second and third ones, I   
really can only guess. Buffy, three months ago, you did a wonderful   
thing. An incredible, sacrificial thing that saved all of us--saved the   
world, in fact. But, that sacrifice was you," she continued sadly. "You   
jumped into an energy portal to stop it from turning our world in   
several shades of hell...but you had to die in order for it to stop."  
  
Buffy gazed at her in horror. "I--I've been dead for three months?   
Like, buried in the ground, ashes to ashes, dust to dust?" It was   
impossible, unthinkable. She started to wonder if perhaps she was in   
the Twilight Zone...or maybe even insane.  
  
"They didn't resurrect your old body; instead, I think they made you a   
new one. That's why you wouldn't have your old scars. But I don't know   
who did it, or why. It might be those Powers I was talking about, but   
if they were responsible, I don't know why they waited this long. As   
for the location and clothes, well," she shrugged, "at least you didn't   
appear in a room full of frat boys."  
  
Buffy clutched at her arms and shuddered. "No, that's not a good visual   
picture. Or mental one, either. I wish I could remember some of this,   
something that would help me accept it all...I gotta tell you, it's not   
easy."  
  
"Don't I know it. But you'll remember something, you have to believe   
that."  
  
She appeared to think this over. "Will I ever remember Dawn? You said   
something about a spell..."  
  
Willow grimaced. "Dawn is a little more complicated. And I know you   
said you wanted to know everything, but this is too much, even in spite   
of what I've told you, already. Trust me on this."  
  
Buffy didn't know why, but she found that she did trust her. "Okay. So,   
tell me more about the first year, and don't spare the details;   
especially anything of a boy-liking nature," she said with a grin.  
  
Willow's eyes widened in dread. "Oh boy."  
  
  
****  
  
  
Tara and Dawn peeked in occasionally while Willow told Buffy about   
everything that happened the first year--or at least, as much as she   
felt she could safely share. She fumbled around the Master drinking her   
blood, her drowning and being revived by Xander, but she gave enough   
information to give Buffy the main idea. She had died only momentarily,   
but long enough to summon the next Slayer, whose name was Kendra.  
  
They stopped for lunch, and also to let all that sink in. Willow and   
Tara were worried that they shouldn't tell her too much, too soon, but   
Buffy soaked in everything like a sponge. Some things were hard for her   
to grasp, like Angel and the fact that he had a soul. Willow explained   
the soul made him one of the good guys, but Buffy wasn't so sure.  
  
"Willow, you told me that he had this soul for like, a hundred years,   
and he never did anything good with it until he met me. And even then,   
he sounds kind of rude. What did I see in him?"  
  
Willow nearly choked on her sandwich. "Buffy! I can't believe--" then   
she broke off, laughing. It felt good to laugh in the midst of all this   
craziness. "I keep forgetting you've never seen him. He's, well, tall,   
dark, handsome, and mysterious. You guys didn't instantly hit it off,   
but you were attracted to him, big time. It was mutual likeage."  
  
"If you say so," Buffy shrugged. "Was he a lot of fun? Party animal   
kind of guy?"  
  
"Um, no. Definitely not. He's a loner, reads books, and he likes to   
stay at home."  
  
"Ugh. He must be *really* cute, then. I mean, I like having time to   
myself, but there's gotta be the fun, too. Dancing, hanging out..." she   
stopped and looked down at her sandwich, "...but you guys already knew   
that, huh?"  
  
Willow smiled wistfully. "Yeah. There wasn't so much of the fun-having   
at the end, but not for lack of trying. And now that you're back with   
us, there'll be fun to be had once again."  
  
Buffy tried to smile, but it didn't come off very well. She hadn't hit   
information overload just yet; however, the fact that she was missing a   
huge chunk of her life made her feel bad for her friends. They still   
remembered the good times, and all she could do was stare blankly at   
them, hoping something would jar her memory.  
  
Tara glanced at Willow in sudden alarm. "I didn't call Angel and tell   
him."   
  
Willow swore something under her breath, "Oh no, I totally forgot. It's   
not your fault, it's mine. I should've thought of that. Should I drive   
down to LA, or just call him? When I told him about Buffy, um,   
*before*, I went in person."  
  
"Maybe we should go down there together? I'd like to see LA again,   
check out the shops," Buffy added before she took another drink of her   
Diet Coke.  
  
Willow shook her head. "That's not a good idea. When you guys broke up,   
it was for a reason. If he sees you right away, he might get really   
happy."  
  
"And that's a bad thing?" Buffy gave them a quizzical look.   
  
Tara replied, "We, uh, haven't gotten to the second year, yet. You see,   
his having a soul is a curse. He's supposed to feel the guilt and   
misery of everything he did as a vampire. The only way to lift the   
curse is for him to have one moment of perfect happiness."  
  
Willow chimed in, "He's already kinda had that, and after what he did,   
we don't want that happening again. Ever."  
  
"Okay, then. That's good to know. Don't make the ex-boyfriend really   
happy, or else badness ensues. I can handle that."  
  
They all shared a look of irony at the statement, but said nothing as   
they ate in silence, leaving Buffy none the wiser.  
  
  
****  
  
  
The afternoon passed by with only a brief overview of the second and   
third years, with certain facts kept deliberately vague until they   
could be more easily dealt with. Willow avoided telling Buffy much   
about Spike's past mainly because if she explained Spike, then she'd   
have to explain about the Initiative, then Riley, and that was a messy   
place she didn't want to go just yet. Once it was late enough, Willow   
called Giles to let him know what had happened, and the Watcher's   
response was nearly an echo of hers; disbelief mixed with joy. He vowed   
to get on the next available flight out of England, and told her that   
he would call her back once he knew when he was flying in.  
  
As the sun began to wane, Willow asked Dawn and Tara to take over to   
the Magic Box, where Xander would be joining them later. Anya was   
thrilled at Buffy's sudden reappearance, although she was concerned if   
this meant she'd have to invite Buffy to be a bridesmaid, and how much   
extra that would cost.  
  
The idea that Spike might have been responsible for Buffy's sudden   
resurrection had occurred to her, but Willow wasn't inclined to believe   
it. If he had planned to resurrect her, he would've done it before now,   
certainly. Plus, he wouldn't have had her pop up in some random place,   
and not sought her out. No, Spike wasn't in on this, which left her   
with no suspects to suspect.  
  
Willow created and rehearsed what she would say to Spike before she got   
to the crypt, but as she knocked and entered, the words escaped her   
mind and flew right out the open door. She could almost see them   
fleeing for their lives, and she wished she could join them.  
  
Spike was up and awake, but only just. Shirtless, he padded in bare   
feet over to his discarded T-shirt and put it on. "Aren't you a little   
early for slaying, Will? It's still daylight."  
  
"Spike, I...I'm not here about the slaying. There's something important   
I have to tell you. And I don't want you to get too excited, or   
anything, because we really don't how it happened--"  
  
"Will, the point?" he groused, then shock crossed his face. "Oh God,   
it's not Dawn, is it? The little bit's okay, isn't she?"  
  
"No, no, Dawn's fine," Willow replied, a bit heartened by Spike's   
concern. "It's--it's about Buffy. She, uh, she showed up at the house   
today. Alive."  
  
She didn't think he could look any more stunned, shocked, dazed, and   
elated than he was at that moment. "Alive? She--Buffy...but how? She's   
not a zombie, is she? Her grave wasn't disturbed last night, I know I   
checked it..."  
  
"Spike, it's okay. She's real. But there's something else. She doesn't   
remember anything about the last five years. It's like her whole life   
as a Slayer was erased. And that's not the worst thing. She doesn't   
remember Dawn at all. Whatever spell the monks did on us, it doesn't   
last beyond death, apparently."  
  
Willow swallowed, then added, "She doesn't remember any of us, and in   
her own mind she's still fifteen years old."  
  
  
****  
  
  
Spike was so shaken, he didn't know what to do with himself. He wanted   
to run out there and see her, despite the sun's waning presence...but   
there was fear, too. Fear that the woman he knew wouldn't be the same   
person who had come back. Spike felt like someone had handed back a   
part of his heart, only to stake a hole in it.   
  
"What's she like? Is she the same as before, or..." He couldn't say   
worse. The idea of Buffy being tortured mentally like this made him   
feel angry and powerless, since he couldn't prevent it.  
  
"She's a lot like when I first met her, actually. Buffy's upset about   
her mom, of course, but in many ways it's like her innocence was given   
back to her. She doesn't have all those memories of Angel, or the   
Master, or of her mother's illness. Sometimes when I talk to her, I   
forget she's not all there."  
  
Spike sank into his only chair, completely flabbergasted. "You don't   
know how much I wished for this, Will. And now she's back...." He   
smiled as the realization really sunk in. Buffy was alive. It didn't   
matter what she could or couldn't remember; she was here, safe and   
mostly sound. "Can I see her? Or would that bollocks things up?"  
  
"Well, I kinda told her about you. Y'know, that you're a vampire, and   
you met years ago, but I didn't tell her about the killing two Slayers,   
or wanting to kill her until last year. Or about the chip, since that   
means I'd have to tell her about Riley--"  
  
"Ah. Say no more. Please. But, um, what about Angel? Does she know   
about...?" he trailed off, not really wanting to elaborate.  
  
"Mostly. I have to call Angel later and let him know about Buffy being   
alive, so he doesn't let certain things slip."  
  
Spike blinked in surprise. "Hold on, there. You mean to tell me that   
you haven't even *told* Angel yet?"  
  
"Well, kinda, yeah. And Giles needs to be called too, but Xander and   
Anya know, plus Dawn and Tara were at the house when she showed up.   
Why?"  
  
"Oh, nothing," he said off-handedly, though his grin told otherwise.   
"Just thought it was interesting, that's all." They hadn't told the   
poofter first, and it thrilled his undead heart almost as much as   
Buffy's return to the living.  
  
Willow gave him a puzzled look, but then shrugged it off. "Well, we're   
all meeting at the Magic Box tonight, Xander's going to be there after   
work. You can come along with me if you promise you won't take   
advantage of Buffy in her...vulnerable state. No hugging and kissing,   
but if you're good I'll let you shake her hand."  
  
Spike stared at her in astonishment. "If I'm good? What'll you do if   
I'm not? Make me go to my crypt without supper?"  
  
Willow gave him a perfectly arched eyebrow, one that brooked nothing   
from him. He sighed and relented, all of the outer Big Badness fading   
faster than a snowflake on a hot plate. "Fine. Not like I was gonna try   
anything, anyway. She didn't love me before; don't know why that would   
change just 'cause she lost her memories."  
  
He grabbed his leather coat and tugged it on, following the young witch   
out of the crypt towards a reunion he'd never entertained would be   
possible--and was immeasurably grateful for it.  
  
  
****  
  
  
Willow let out a slow sigh of relief at Spike's agreement to behave   
himself, once they were on their way to the shop. She would never admit   
to him, but with Buffy's state of mind, who knew what she might think   
of Spike? He was very different now than when he and Buffy first met,   
and he was kind of attractive. Okay, more than 'kind of'--after seeing   
him shirtless just now, she'd have to say 'definitely', bordering on   
'very'. But that was beside the point. He was still a not-quite-good   
influence, and with Buffy being essentially a blank canvas, she wasn't   
about to let him paint any lies about his past.  
  
Besides, this way she could watch over the whole thing, and make sure   
Buffy wasn't getting any opinions of Spike that she knew her friend   
would later regret, once she regained her memories.  
  
  
****  
  
  
After Willow had left to talk to that guy named Spike, Buffy found   
herself quickly growing bored. She felt isolated and alone in her room,   
and she decided that with the time left before they all left for   
someplace called the Magic Box, she would reach out to the girl who was   
supposed to be her younger sister.  
  
Buffy knocked on Dawn's door, and the girl--her sister, she amended--  
merely called for her to come inside. She pushed the door open and   
found Dawn sprawled on the bed, looking up at the ceiling.  
  
"Hey, whatcha doing?" Buffy asked awkwardly.  
  
"Making a Top 40 single that'll propel me into destructive fame," Dawn   
replied dryly. "And you?"  
  
"Trying to find my place in life with the help of family and friends.   
Sorry, probably should have lightened that up a bit," Buffy added   
meekly, but Dawn only gestured her to come over.  
  
"Buffy, trust me, I totally know what you're going through. You feel   
like everything's upside-down, and you're confused and upset. And it   
sucks so bad you want it to all go away."  
  
"In a nutshell," Buffy smiled weakly. "I know Willow's the Information   
Girl, but can you tell me something about what I'm like? You know, with   
my friends and with you? I'm not a bossy, obnoxious big sis, am I?"  
  
Dawn grinned, "Sorry to break it to you, but yes. No, just kidding--  
you're the best big sister a girl could have. After mom died, you took   
care of me, and didn't let me get away with anything."  
  
"Yikes. I was bossy, then. It's so weird to think of me like that...I   
still feel like I'm five years younger than this, which means we're   
almost the same age."  
  
Dawn frowned. "Weird. But that could be, like, a good thing. We were   
always sisters, we weren't ever really friends since you were so much   
older and stuff. Now, we have things to talk about."  
  
"Like boys," Buffy grinned, and settled on the edge of the bed. Dawn   
grinned back, and scrambled to sit up. "Know any cute ones?"  
  
"Well, there's Kevin...but you can't have him, he's mine. And then   
there's Spike, who's totally cool."  
  
"Uh, Spike? As in, the vampire who lives in the cemetery?" Buffy looked   
at her dubiously.  
  
"Yeah, I know. But he's so not like a vampire. He took care of me when   
you couldn't, and he's been checking on me ever since...well, you know.   
Anyway, he's really nice. Even when you treated him like crap, he never   
lashed back or anything."  
  
"Why did I do that?" Buffy asked, concerned. "I sound like a total   
bitch."  
  
"Oh, it's not like you didn't have a reason...but yeah, you were a bee-  
otch of the mega variety to him. I think you were being nicer to him,   
though, after he nearly got tortured to death."  
  
Buffy's hand flew up to her mouth. "Tortured?" she managed to reply.  
  
At her response, Dawn's attitude grew more serious. "Yeah, it was bad.   
It was my fault, too. He knew about me being the Key, and the bad guys   
tried to torture the info out of him, but he wouldn't tell them. Said   
he'd rather die, first."  
  
Buffy winced in sympathy and shame. "But I was nicer to him after that,   
right?"  
  
"Well, you didn't hit him or anything. Oh, and when he got his hands   
sliced up--after I told you he was hurt--you actually looked at it to   
make sure it wasn't bad."  
  
She was starting to feel nauseous. "That was 'nice' for me, huh?"  
  
"Just for Spike. I mean, if it was Giles or Xander, that's a different   
story. Besides, he can heal fast like you do, so you probably didn't   
think it was a big deal."  
  
"Right." Buffy swallowed, then said, "Well, I think he's earned some   
super-niceness from me by now, you think?"  
  
Dawn smiled. "Yeah, I think so."  
  
A knock on the door interrupted their conversation, and Tara poked her   
head into the room. "Are you ready to go meet everyone else, Buffy?"  
  
Buffy slid off the bed and straightened her clothes. "Oh yeah. I'm more   
than ready. Let's go."  
  
  



	3. Reunion

Lost and Foundering  
  
  
~**~**~  
  
Chapter Three  
  
~**~**~  
  
  
When Buffy, Dawn and Tara arrived at the shop, a dark-haired young man   
and a tawny-haired woman were already there, waiting for them. The man   
smiled instantly and came over, with the woman trailing behind.  
  
Tara pulled Buffy forward, giving her an encouraging smile. "Buffy, th-  
this is Xander and Anya, his fiancée. Willow told you about them."  
  
"Oh, yes! Hi there," she held out her hand, which Xander stared at in   
puzzlement.  
  
"Um, would it be okay if I gave you a hug, Buffy?" He asked, looking   
somewhat pained. "If you don't want to, that's okay..."  
  
"No, that's fine." Buffy opened her arms and he pulled her in tightly,   
though it surprised her that she hardly felt the pressure. Eventually   
he released his hold on her and Buffy looked over to Anya.  
  
"Uh, do we hug, too?"   
  
Anya smiled. "Well, no, we don't. But since it's a big emotional event,   
I suppose we should."  
  
"Okay then," Buffy gave her a crooked, uncertain grin. Anya walked up   
and gave her an awkward hug and pat on the shoulder.  
  
"Glad you're back, Buffy. I, uh, have to finish counting the receipts,   
so..."  
  
Buffy sensed her reluctance to stay, so she replied, "Don't mind me. Go   
count."  
  
"Okay!" Anya beamed, and quickly headed back over to the counter.  
  
Xander fidgeted in embarrassment. "She's, um, really glad to see you.   
It's just so overwhelming for her, you understand."  
  
"No problem. I get the overwhelming part." She nodded absently, and the   
conversation died an unnatural death. Eventually Tara suggested sitting   
down at the table to talk, and soon everyone was clustered around, with   
Buffy facing the door and her sister and Tara flanking her.   
  
Xander was attempting to make small talk when the door opened up, and   
Willow walked in, followed by a guy who must have been the winner of a   
Billy Idol look-a-like contest, only much cuter than the original.   
  
"That's Spike," Dawn whispered into her ear, but she'd already known it   
was him. If anyone radiated "dangerous vampire", it was this guy. The   
pale skin and black clothes were a clear giveaway in Southern   
California.  
  
"Uh huh," was all Buffy was able to utter, as she stared at the vampire   
who was now staring back at her.  
  
  
****  
  
  
It was amazing. Incredible. His gaze locked with hers, relief and joy   
bursting from within, demanding release. From the way she was watching   
him, he could almost swear she recognized...  
  
...But no. Will had explained to him that Buffy knew of the gang. As   
the only remaining person in the inner circle immediately on hand, it   
was simple math, nothing more. He smiled at her in delight, and she   
echoed it genuinely. Oh yeah...she didn't remember him at all.  
  
Willow was glaring daggers at his side, so he tore his gaze from Buffy   
long enough to give her a reassuring look. Xander wasn't too happy   
himself from the way he was acting, but Spike knew it was part of the   
show and dance he put on for the rest of the group. Heaven forbid that   
Xander actually display friendship to him, but if he needed a partner   
for pool, or an ear for his problems, Spike was his man.   
  
Not that Spike didn't appreciate the group's protectiveness of Buffy--  
that was partly why he liked them. It was just that they didn't seem to   
realize that Buffy didn't need to be protected from him; he'd rather   
die than hurt her needlessly.  
  
With Willow's unspoken acceptance, Spike walked over to the table, more   
nervous than he'd ever been in either life or unlife. "Um, hi Buffy. I   
know you don't remember me--"  
  
He stopped as she got up from the table. "It's okay, I know who you   
are--Dawn told me when you walked in. And I know this'll seem majorly   
weird to you, but I just want to do this before you say anything else."  
  
As Buffy walked up to him, Spike braced himself for the blow. When he   
felt her arms slip around him and tighten in a hug, he blinked in   
surprise. He glanced to a smiling Dawn, then to a shocked Willow,   
suddenly remembering his promise not to hug or kiss the newly returned   
Buffy.  
  
She gave him a gesture that he took to mean, "Reciprocate, you moron!",   
and he did gladly, wrapping his arms around her and holding her   
lovingly, like the most precious item a man could ever possess.  
  
  
****  
  
  
Buffy had expected the tenseness from him, which was now melting away   
as he relaxed into her embrace, but not the cold. Thanks to Willow, she   
knew that vampires were members of the undead, with no soul, heartbeat,   
or warmth...however, the reality was so odd as to be incomprehensible.   
And it was weird to think it, but it was almost kind of nice, once she   
got past the initial alarm and concern.   
  
There was a power to him that she hadn't felt from Xander, and   
intellectually she knew it was the vampiric strength Willow had   
mentioned earlier that day. It was why she was so strong--she had to   
be, in order to fight them as the Slayer. So why was he so friendly and   
kind, when the other ones weren't?  
  
She heard a female cough come from Willow's direction, and Buffy felt   
Spike pull away hesitantly. She let her arms linger around him for an   
extra second, then did likewise and nearly succumbed to the temptation   
of giving Willow a withering glare.   
  
Then it suddenly struck her. Were Willow and Spike...together? If so,   
then her supposed best friend had some explaining to do, since she had   
all but ignored telling her about it. Buffy filed that away as   
something to ask about later. Summoning her resolve, she focused back   
on Spike and finished what she meant to say.  
  
"Dawn told me what you've done for the both of us, and while I don't   
understand the how of it, I just wanted to thank you for enduring the,   
the torture and me being a total jerk to you, and everything. You...you   
don't hold it against me, do you?"  
  
Spike just looked at her like she was crazy, an epidemic that spread to   
the rest of the group. "No, love. I wouldn't ever hold it against you,"   
he replied in an incredulous voice, though his face held nothing but   
gratitude and...something more. Her mind danced around what it was   
until Willow approached the two of them, not looking happy at all.  
  
"Buffy, Dawn told you about that?" The witch spared a glance at the   
girl, who shrunk under her gaze.   
  
"Yeah, she did. Why? Wasn't I supposed to know?" Buffy cringed as the   
question came out snottier than she intended.  
  
"I'm just trying to ease you into your past--which is complicated and   
bizarre enough on its own--and jumping around with the info doesn't   
help. Did she tell you *why* you were acting that way to him, before?"  
  
Buffy looked back to Spike, who was very uneasy at this new direction   
in the conversation. "No, not exactly. She said I had a good reason,   
but she didn't go into details."  
  
Willow waffled visibly between anger and compassion, then said, "Well,   
Spike *is* a vampire. He's been one for over 120 years."  
  
"Yeah, I know. I can do the math. At a few people a week, that would be   
thousands of people, at least. I understand that, and it's far from a   
pleasant thought. But from what I know, if he were really and truly   
evil, then he wouldn't have been hanging around and helping for the   
past two years, would he? Not to mention bringing him here to see me,"   
Buffy added for Willow's benefit, and the witch ducked her head,   
caught. "So, I don't see what he could've done recently that would make   
me hate him so much that I treat him like dirt--after he's been   
tortured--and yet still have him as a part of this weird little   
vampire-fighting group. Or am I missing the point completely?"  
  
The dark-haired guy blew out a frustrated breath. "You don't remember,   
Buffy, that's why you're not getting it. Right now to you, all this--  
they're just facts. But we lived through it all, and we can't say it   
meant nothing."  
  
"I'm not saying it means nothing...Xander," Buffy recalled just in   
time. "It's just that, Dawn didn't think he was bad, so I don't 'get'   
why I have to be a bitch of the fifth degree. Unless you want to   
explain to me what was so horrible that it made me hate him that much."   
  
She folded her arms and waited, expecting someone to step forward with   
the awful truth. To her surprise, it was Dawn who stood up in obvious   
distress.   
  
"Buffy, no one would ever claim Spike was good back in the day, but we   
know he's changed. He's not evil anymore."  
  
Spike made a protesting noise. "Niblet, don't make me out to be some   
kinda hero, here. I'm a vampire, and I'm...well, I don't know what, but   
it's definitely not good."  
  
"Yeah, the evil dead here has a point, not that I tend to agree with   
him or anything," Xander said, his shoulders hunched as if he could   
disclaim his own words by physical means.  
  
Willow gave him a curious look, then added, "Spike's right, Dawn. You   
can't make him into something he's not. He's done a lot of bad things   
in the past."  
  
Buffy felt uncomfortable at the rising temper in the room, not meaning   
to start a debate. She opened her mouth to say something to calm them,   
but Dawn spoke first.  
  
"In the *past*, Willow. He hasn't done anything remotely evil for   
months, and even then, it wasn't huge. I mean, c'mon--the worst thing I   
can think of is the whole thing with Adam, and he saved you guys from   
that demon in the end."  
  
Xander's face darkened. "That's only because we would have staked him,   
otherwise."  
  
Dawn rolled her eyes. "Hel-lo! You would've been dead! Even I know   
that, and I wasn't even there! He could've just walked away and left   
town, leaving you to die. But he didn't."  
  
The others looked around in puzzlement, unsure if her point was valid.   
The vampire in question pondered it for a while, surprise clearly   
written on his face. "Uh, I hadn't really thought of that. I just,   
y'know, saw 'em there and jumped the demon. Didn't think of heroics at   
the time."  
  
"See? That's what I mean! You didn't think first, but it was still the   
right thing to do. You were doing not-evil stuff even back then."  
  
Spike shook his head, apparently stunned or in disbelief at the   
concept. The others didn't look convinced either. Buffy's sister,   
obviously disgusted with them all, threw up her hands in anger.  
  
"Fine. Don't believe me. I'm not really important, anyway...just a   
shell of a person who--" she glanced at Buffy with tears forming in her   
eyes, stopping herself. "Anyway. Just...never mind."  
  
Dawn stomped back into an unseen room, and Buffy wasn't sure if she   
should follow. Spike gently brushed past her, intending to follow the   
girl wherever she led.  
  
Buffy turned back to the group, Willow at least having the ability to   
look contrite. All the rest were a mixture of confusion, nervousness,   
and concern. She faced the group with her arms still crossed, and said,   
"I think it's about time someone told me the rest of the story."  
  
  
****  
  
  
He found her sitting down in the couch along the back wall, wiping   
tears hastily from her eyes. The only illumination came from behind   
him, but he could see her perfectly in the darkened room. He reached   
for the light switch, but Dawn's voice called out, "Leave them off."  
  
"All right then," Spike replied, not really sure what to do next. "You   
want the door open?"  
  
She shrugged, so he closed the door, walked over and sat down next to   
her on the couch, waiting for inspiration to come. Light filtered in   
from a nearby streetlight through the high windows along the back wall,   
just enough for shapes to emerge in the darkness of the room. It was   
almost calming, he mused, if you were into that sort of thing.  
  
Dawn ended up talking first, instead. "You...you didn't even defend   
yourself in there. I know you used to think of yourself as the Big Bad,   
but you know better by now, right?"  
  
His hand drifted unconsciously towards her head, but he pulled it back   
when he realized she was staring at him. He couldn't play it off as   
anything else, however, so he brought it back with some awkwardness.   
"It's what I am. I won't try to pretend I'm not a monster."  
  
It felt...almost nice to rest his hand on her head, if just for the   
briefest of seconds. After that, it came down to her shoulder and   
stayed there. Dawn looked at him in gratitude, but still wasn't happy.  
  
"I know what you've done; I'm not stupid. But you're not a monster to   
me. And I just wanted Buffy to see you the way I do, even if it's only   
for a little while."  
  
The sentiment caught Spike entirely off-guard. His hand pulled away and   
suddenly he was standing up, trying to stop the emotions he shouldn't   
be having--couldn't be having at all. It was wrong, he was a vampire,   
and...and evil. Yes, he could still say it. It didn't fill him with   
relief, however, which only disturbed him more.  
  
"Dawn, you can't--you shouldn't *say* things like that."  
  
"Why not?"  
  
"Because I *am* a monster. And even if you've got the best intentions   
in the world, it'll never last. Once she realizes the truth, it'll be   
over. Plus, it only gets me thinking of things I'd be better off not   
thinking about."  
  
"Spike, I don't believe that." He stared at her, incredulous. She gazed   
back with that strong will he admired and replied, "I don't. If Buffy   
could get to know you the way I do, maybe she would like you better   
once she had her memories back. Or if that doesn't happen, she would be   
able to know you without all the prior baggage and stuff."  
  
He chuckled at that, amazed at this opportunity presented at his feet.   
An unknowing Buffy, with a sister willing to show him in the best   
possible light. It was an offer he didn't deserve. "Buffy will remember   
some day, little bit. I'm sure of that. And if she was ever going to   
love me, it'll be a Buffy who remembers everything about her and me. I   
won't make a mess of this like I did...before." He didn't need to   
explain. Dawn knew exactly what he meant.  
  
A horrifying thought went through his mind, and he whirled back to face   
the girl on the couch. "Dawn, you didn't tell her I...that I--"  
  
"Love her? No, I didn't. I remember how that went the first time I told   
her." Spike glared at the young girl, and she winced in embarrassment.   
"Oh, you didn't know? I, uh, I was the one that told her about it. She   
didn't have a clue."  
  
He forgave her easily; what was done, was done. "Funny, I always   
thought she...but that's not important," he shook his head, clearing   
the stray thoughts. "As long as she can't remember, I don't see a   
reason why she needs to know."  
  
Dawn nodded in agreement, almost a little too quickly. Spike added,   
"And no scheming behind my back, got it?"  
  
She groaned, and he allowed himself a smile at catching the girl's   
intentions. Dawn agreed to that as well, and stood up to face him.  
  
"I take it all back--you are a meanie," she said with a dramatic pout,   
and he clapped her on the back, guiding her back into the shop.  
  
"Now you're getting it," he replied with an affectionate grin.  
  
  
****  
  
  
In the space of time before the vampire and her sister came back in,   
Buffy was getting the hastily put-together version of her and Spike's   
past. It did throw her opinion of him into a tailspin, but she couldn't   
ignore the fact that it was the past, not to mention her own lack of   
memory made the facts seem a little more distant.  
  
"So this chip--it's what makes him nice, right?"  
  
"Not exactly," Xander replied, looking a bit disappointed at the truth.   
"All it does is prevent him from hurting people. He can still hurt and   
kill demons, though."  
  
Buffy tapped her lip thoughtfully. "And he's had this chip for about   
two years, which is when he started helping us out--"  
  
"--for money," Anya interjected.  
  
"Right, for money, but he still didn't really do anything like what he   
used to do, from what you've told me. What I don't understand is why he   
took care of Dawn when he doesn't have a reason to do so."  
  
Buffy felt the air stir behind her, and turned to see Spike and Dawn   
standing there. His face had the fading remnants of a smile, while   
Dawn's sulky look was quickly replaced by self-consciousness.   
  
"I think I can answer that, pet," Spike replied, focusing completely on   
her. "You asked me to."  
  
The tense mood that had gathered in the room vanished, but it didn't   
stave off her own concern. "But why would you do anything for me? From   
what they said, you aren't exactly a member of the Buffy fan club."  
  
The blond vampire stared at the others in the room in disbelief, and   
Buffy felt even more self-conscious than Dawn looked. There was   
something being danced around here, but what was it?  
  
"Look, if I've stepped on some toes here, just tell me, okay? I don't   
want to start any serious chasms of friendship," she added, but   
Willow's discontent was still obvious. "Willow, Spike--was the hugging   
thing a faux pas?"  
  
Spike started with, "No--" but Willow superceded him with, "Well, it   
wasn't exactly the best...that is, it wasn't the sort of thing you   
normally would've done. Y'know, if you had your memories." Spike landed   
his gaze firmly on the redhead, and they shared an unspoken   
conversation, one that gave Buffy the distinct impression her prior   
suspicion about the two of them was correct.  
  
"I'm sorry, if I'd known...I mean, that you and Spike were..." Buffy's   
hands flailed in desperation.  
  
"Me and Spike...? You mean--" Willow broke off in astonishment, then   
added hastily, "Oh, no, Buffy, there is no such thing. It's me and   
Tara."  
  
"Oh." Then the true meaning sunk in. "Oh! Oh, you mean, you and Tara   
are...and so you're not...um, okay. Never mind, then."  
  
Purposefully avoiding Spike's look of horrified amusement, she heard   
Willow suggest going back to the house and letting her rest for the   
night. Buffy nodded in agreement, and gave up trying to sort this all   
out in light of her overwhelming embarrassment.  
  
This whole thing with Spike was bugging her, however. They weren't   
telling her something, but she didn't know what. If they weren't   
willing to tell her, then she might need to go directly to the source.  
  
  
****  
  
  
Willow allowed Spike to walk home with the four of them, and tried not   
to pay attention as her best friend stared after the retreating vampire   
with a look that seemed more conflicted than not. She was going to make   
sure that Buffy knew everything about Spike, even if she had to bring   
in the vampire in question to fill in the blanks.  
  
Dawn took Buffy upstairs, while Tara lingered in the foyer, not sure   
what to do. For the first time, Willow noticed how uneasy the other   
woman felt, and came over to rub her arm lovingly.  
  
"Hey, you. What's wrong?"  
  
"Oh, nothing," Tara shook her head. "It's just...with Buffy in the   
house, I feel like a third wheel, you know? Dawn and Buffy can take of   
each other, and besides, I feel like I'm intruding on their privacy."  
  
"Nonsense. Buffy might be back, but she still feels like she's fifteen.   
And with two fifteen-year-olds in the house, they'll need someone to be   
the grown-up," Willow smiled, and Tara returned the gesture.  
  
"Are you going back home?"  
  
The redheaded witch winced at the lonely tone in her lover's voice. "I   
better, since I have to work early tomorrow. I also want to check out   
some remembrance spells, see if that might jog Buffy's memory."  
  
Tara frowned in a way that Willow recognized as worry. "Don't you think   
it's a little early for that? M-maybe we should just wait, and see what   
happens naturally."  
  
Willow sighed in resignation. "Okay, yeah. You're right, we better   
wait. I just wanted to fix it, that's all."  
  
"I know you do. But we have to be careful with casting spells--not   
everything can be corrected through magic, you know. Sometimes nature   
is best."  
  
Tara kissed her lightly, then headed upstairs to her room, leaving   
Willow behind with a growing sense of helplessness and frustration.   
  
  
****  
  
  
Rather than heading home to his crypt, Spike wandered over to the   
Bronze for a bit of celebration, in a way only the bar could provide.   
  
The place was packed, even at this early hour, but he found himself a   
good spot at the bar to people-watch and enjoy the ambiance. He was   
halfway through his first beer when he recognized a shaggy mop of dark   
hair heading in his direction. He wasn't surprised in the least to see   
the Harris boy here--a part of him wondered if he'd come here expecting   
it, but he shook that melancholy thought away before it took root in   
his head.  
  
"It's times like these that I wish I was twenty-one, already," Harris   
started without preamble, but Spike was used to it by now. Such   
pleasantries as 'hello' or 'good-bye' weren't a part of the   
conversational vocabulary where he was concerned.  
  
"Need a drink?"  
  
"Oh yeah. But since it can't be booze, a nice, stiff Dr. Pepper if you   
please, good barkeep," the boy said, slapping the countertop and   
drawing an unguarded look of contempt from the bartender. Spike   
smirked, but hid it by taking another gulp of his beer.  
  
Xander got his drink and stood there, shuffling his feet in a gesture   
Spike interpreted as a desperate need to talk. He finished off the rest   
of his beer, set the mug on the counter and said, "C'mon, let's have   
it."  
  
"You, uh, wanna shoot some pool?"  
  
Spike shrugged. "Sure. Loser pays for the next round?"  
  
"Hell no! I might've been stupid enough to fall for that twice, but not   
a third time."  
  
"You got me there, Harris. I've been bloody outwitted and all my   
nefarious plans have been exposed." Spike paused, then added, "Best two   
out of three?"  
  
Xander took a gulp of Dr. Pepper. "Okay."  
  
  
  
  
Spike had to admit, the boy lost beautifully. First round went quick   
when Xander accidentally knocked the eight ball into a corner pocket.   
The second round, he never got to shoot anything other than the   
breaking shot. Harris ponied up for another beer and even some onion   
petals that made up for the loss of the onion flower on the menu, but   
he sternly told Spike they weren't for him and if any were missing by   
the time he came back from the restroom, he'd be meeting the pointy end   
of a freshly carved stake.   
  
Xander never missed the ones Spike ate while he was gone. Whether it   
was a backhanded gesture or not, the vampire didn't question it. If the   
boy was stupid enough to leave his onion petals unguarded, then it only   
served him right if a few gotten eaten here and there.  
  
Somewhere along the line, the conversation had wandered into Xander's   
day at work. It might have been truly horrible, but since Spike had   
never really had a job, he had no frame of reference.  
  
"And the worst thing is," Xander was saying, "is that the project   
manager *knew* the drywall contractors were running over schedule, but   
did he tell us? No, not the carpenters! We, who end up getting dumped   
on and pushed to speed it up because some nimrod blew his scheduling   
and so now, the finish carpentry guys are the ones that pay."  
  
"Positively criminal," Spike replied, not really caring and only half-  
listening. He lined up a shot and used the boy's ranting as white   
noise.  
  
"But I can't leave, 'cause I've got this whole big scary marrying thing   
in my future, you know? I have to be stable, responsible. It's worse   
than facing Spaora demons in a dark alley. Or half the football team   
after you've put itching powder in their jock straps."  
  
The shot was true, and the nine ball sunk easily into a side pocket.   
"So, you're getting cold feet already?"  
  
"Nah, it's just...new territory for the Xanman. The next to final   
frontier. Anya's already talking about our 'spawn', and what they'll be   
named. She's also been reading about how having sex in different   
positions can..." Spike narrowed his eyes, and Harris stopped himself.   
"Right. Too much information."  
  
Spike never volunteered thoughts or opinions during these sessions, but   
with Buffy's return, there was a need to converse, to exult in the joy   
that came from having her back and alive. Harris must have noticed the   
change, because for once he had shut his mouth and only stood there,   
waiting for whatever might come.  
  
The vampire gazed out at the pool table as if lining up another shot,   
but his hands fiddled with the pool cue, betraying his cool exterior.   
"I never thought I'd see her again. None of us did, of course, but I   
just was resigned to it, y'know? I would've given anything to have her   
back, just for a day, and now it's so..." Words failed him, and he   
cursed and dug out a cigarette. He lit it, took a drag from it and blew   
out a slow, smoky breath. "Doesn't matter that she's not all present   
and accounted for yet. It'll come, I know it."  
  
"You know this...whatever it is she feels for you, it's only   
temporary."  
  
"Yeah, I'm not stupid. Unlike others I could name in the immediate   
vicinity," Spike breathed out, and the boy only frowned. "It's tempting   
to indulge in the fantasy, but reality is a brutal and harsh mistress.   
Better not to go there, than find yourself on a path leading to nothing   
but devastation."  
  
"I hear ya," Xander replied in what Spike figured was a momentary and   
reflexive morsel of sympathy. "Fantasy is nice, but reality is where we   
live...even if it *is* the Hellmouth."  
  
Spike nodded in amusement. It was true enough--the Hellmouth had its   
own brand of wackiness that defied description. This caused the notion   
that Buffy's resurrection was a temporary side effect of the Hellmouth   
phenomenon to creep into his mind, and it sobered him. The boy noticed   
the change, but Spike waved it away, knowing it to be nothing more than   
an idle thought. Or so he hoped.  
  
The idea must have unsettled him more than he thought, because his next   
shot missed the intended target completely. Harris started in   
amazement, but said nothing. As the boy moved around the table, eyeing   
up his possibilities, he said, "I wish I could believe Buffy's memory   
will come back, eventually. I can't help shaking the thought that it's   
all gone, permanently deleted forever."  
  
"How d'you figure?"  
  
"Well, there's always a price to these things; if Willow's spell-  
casting has shown me anything, it's that the big magicky stuff takes it   
toll. And resurrecting someone from the beyond...well, the memory loss   
is a whole bunch of payment right there."  
  
"You're saying someone brought her back, then," Spike replied,   
intrigued.   
  
"Maybe, maybe not. We might never find out. But the possibility can't   
be ruled out. I have to admit, having Buffy here...it's great, but   
creepy at the same time. Without knowing how or why she's alive, I   
don't know if I can...if I should let myself be happy about it. You   
know?"  
  
Spike let out a deep sigh, then nodded. "There's nothing else to do but   
hope for the best. And make sure the worst doesn't happen."  
  
Xander didn't appear to be convinced that the last could be done, but   
said nothing. The rest of the game was spent in relative silence, and   
afterwards Spike left to return to the cemetery, suddenly needing a few   
kills tonight, to banish the haunting thoughts and notions in his head.  
  
  



	4. StoryTime

Lost and Foundering  
  
  
~**~**~  
  
Chapter Four  
  
~**~**~  
  
  
The Summers house looked innocuous and quiet from the outside, until a   
window on the second floor slid up and a young woman crawled out, who   
glanced around nervously for any sign of being watched.  
  
She awkwardly crossed the sloping roof until she reached a nearby tree,   
then scaled over the nearest limb and down the trunk to reach the   
ground. It amazed her that she was strong enough to do it, never mind   
agile, but she guessed it was part of the Slayer package.  
  
A wooden stake Buffy found in her closet was tucked in her clothes, and   
she felt really freaky and weird for bringing it along at all. She was   
sure it wasn't the sort of fashion accessory that was all the rage with   
her generation. But, Willow had warned her how dangerous the cemetery   
was at night, and she wasn't exactly too eager to go back to being   
dead, again--even if she didn't remember that part.  
  
She'd waited until everyone's lights went off, before sneaking out of   
the house. Hopefully, no one would ever know she'd been out that night,   
but Buffy had the feeling it needed to be done. She had to ask Spike   
about the bizarreness of the whole magic shop reunion, and why she'd   
hated him so badly, before. Her friends were biased where Spike was   
concerned, and even if it meant going to a cemetery at night, she was   
determined to hear the truth, unvarnished and raw.  
  
Even if it meant destroying her nascent opinion of him, and possibly   
earning her new sister's anger and grief.  
  
The map she consulted earlier showed that Sunnydale had twelve   
cemeteries, so she had needed to ask Dawn which one Spike lived in. It   
turned out to be the one closest to the house, a nice convenience--she   
literally walked to work. At least she didn't get stuck in traffic   
trying to reach the graveyard before sundown.   
  
Whatever gates had once existed were no longer around. Buffy thought it   
was odd, until she remembered--Oh yeah, vampires. After the first few   
dozen times they were ripped off their hinges, the caretakers likely   
had given up and not replaced them. The thought of it happening made   
her reconsider her idea of having a late night chat with a vampire.  
  
It didn't last for very long. She steeled herself with the promise of   
solid answers at last, and stepped into the unfamiliar territory,   
quelling nervous fears with the names and blurbs on passing tombstones.   
The dates gradually became more contemporary as she walked further into   
the cemetery. So many were of young people, a little younger or older   
than her. Had she been buried here?  
  
The idle and disturbing thought was stalled by the sensation of   
something not right. She froze, waiting to hear footsteps, but instead   
only felt...a presence. An evil presence who had brought a friend. She   
fumbled for her stake, scared out of her mind but not planning on going   
out without a fight.  
  
Buffy wove through the headstones in the hope of finding a better place   
to defend herself. The pressing sensation of villainous company   
continued on her heels, gaining on her. Her jog turned into a full tilt   
run, jumping over place markers and weaving around statues. And deep   
inside, in a place within herself she didn't recognize, a feeling of   
energy and anticipation welled up, threatening to spill over. Not only   
did she want to fight, she actually *craved* it. More than she could   
imagine or believe.   
  
She stopped and turned, figuring the small clearing was as good as any,   
and spotted the predators who were now prey. It was a bit dark to see   
much, but the faces clearly weren't human. The terror it inspired   
couldn't override the thrill of confrontation, the knowledge that a   
battleground was before her.   
  
"Hey, looky what we got here, pal. Someone dumb enough to come to us!   
Reminds me of when we ordered pizza last week and ate the delivery   
boy." He gave her an ugly grin, which the second male vampire copied.   
They were a bit too cocky, she noticed. Apparently they saw her as an   
easy meal. She prayed they weren't right.  
  
"Ugh," she said in answer, taking in the olive green parachute pants   
and matching vests. "Look, it's Eva and Zsa Zsa, the matching fashion   
victims. Hate to break it to ya, guys, but the eighties are *long*   
over."  
  
They squinted in unison, bewildered at food that talked back. Instead   
of replying, they came at her with a growl, and she somehow managed to   
sidestep one blow and deliver one in return. That was about as smooth   
as it went from there, however, and the fight progressively grew nasty   
and dirty. It wasn't quite as thrilling when she started to get the   
feeling she wasn't going to win.  
  
The second one--Zsa Zsa, she had named him--backhanded her into a wall,   
and her head connected first, causing her to feel nauseous and   
disoriented for a few seconds. It was enough to allow the vamp to grab   
her and pin her to the wall.  
  
"Strong little broad, but not strong enough I guess," he sneered, and   
leaned in for the kill. He'd only gotten halfway when she heard his   
buddy cry out in pain, and the vamp spun around to see the cause of his   
imminent death standing behind him, wearing a black leather duster and   
a self-satisfied smirk on his face.  
  
"This strong enough for you?" Spike replied, and put a stake into the   
vampire's chest. As it turned to dust, his gaze met with the woman he'd   
just saved--and stared. "Buffy? What the hell are you doing out here?"  
  
The adrenaline rush left her, and she braced her weight against the   
wall to hide the sudden weakness in her legs. "I--I'm sorry. I came to   
see you, to talk to you. I didn't think--"  
  
"No, you bloody well didn't, did you? You could've been killed, damn   
it! Now let's get out of here before any of their pals show up." He   
grabbed her by the arm and pulled her forward.   
  
She managed a step before her legs betrayed her. Spike panicked as she   
sunk to her knees, terrified that she'd been hurt worse than he'd   
thought. He kneeled down and held on to her as best as he could. "Are   
you all right? What's wrong?"  
  
"No, nothing's wrong...it just, it's just all hitting me now. I could   
have died." She stared at him in horror. "Oh God. If you hadn't been   
here--"  
  
"Shh, love. No worries when I'm around, 'kay? You're fine."  
  
"You saved my life." She continued to stare at him, trying to reconcile   
what her friends had told her with the person who watched her in deep   
concern, whose panic and fear for her safety and health contradicted   
nearly everything they'd alleged.  
  
He looked away, unsure what to say in response. Buffy took that moment   
to give him a quick hug in thanks, and was glad when he softened and   
hugged her back. When she pulled away, she added a sincere, verbalized   
'thank you' to the hug.  
  
He gave her a sad smile in reply. "You're welcome, always. Now, why   
don't we head over to my place and see if we can't have a chat in   
peace, eh?"  
  
Spike helped her to her feet, and she only needed to lean on him for a   
few steps until her legs steadied. Even then, he hovered nearby,   
protective of the Slayer who wasn't able to slay just yet. When they   
reached the crypt's door, he opened it for her and guided her in with   
his hand lightly resting at the small of her back, a gesture of   
affection he knew she would normally never allow. He had no idea she   
was taking comfort from it, as well.  
  
She looked around the candlelit crypt, trying to imagine it as a place   
someone lived. Despite the TV and chair, she couldn't quite picture it.   
"You live here?"  
  
He shrugged. "Short commute, nice front lawn with lots of trees, and   
nonexistent rent and utility. What's not to love?"  
  
"It's a crypt," she replied, as if that explained everything.  
  
"And I'm a vampire. We tend to find 'em quite homey, if a bit drafty in   
the winter. So, why don't you take a seat while we have our talk, pet."  
  
"Okay," she breathed out, deciding it was best to be sitting down for   
this next part. She took the only chair while he took the bench along   
the wall. She pulled her arm in, as she began to feel a sore spot in   
her shoulder--most likely incurred during the fight. "I want to know   
about you and me, how we met, why we fought, and why you've changed. I   
need to know why I hated you like I did back then."  
  
"Why? So you can hate me now?" Spike answered, his voice slightly   
tinged with a mix of bitterness and curiosity.  
  
"No. So I can try to understand. It's obvious that whatever bad things   
you've done, you're not doing them anymore..."  
  
"Now hold on there--"  
  
"...And if I plan on not hating you anymore, then I need to forgive the   
past. I can't do that if I don't know what it is."  
  
He stared at her, surprised. "You...you want to not hate me?"  
  
She smiled at his thinly-veiled eagerness. "Yeah, I do. Might even go   
up as far as liking, depending on the circumstances."  
  
Spike looked down at his boots and shook his head. "Don't think that's   
possible, love. But if you want to know all the sordidness, I'll tell   
you--whole truth, and nothing but."  
  
"I appreciate that. So, starting at the beginning...how did we meet?"  
  
"Well, it all began when Drusilla and I hit the city limits--  
literally." He told her why he'd originally come, and a background on   
him and Dru ended up being necessary. He decided to be honest this time   
around rather than give her the puffed up version he'd concocted while   
they shot pool at the Bronze. So Buffy found out for the first time   
about William the bloody awful poet, and his doomed love for Cecily.  
  
Buffy's empathy for his rejection surprised him. The main reason he'd   
lied before was to preserve his evil persona, but now he realized his   
mistake. She didn't think less of him--if anything, it appeared that   
William's plight and fate had managed to garner her sympathy and   
compassion. He swore that even if he lived another 120 years, he still   
wouldn't understand women.  
  
He would've liked to gloss over the next few decades, but she needed to   
know about the Slayers he'd killed, and the general mayhem he'd done.   
That caused her to draw back a bit, but he couldn't tell if it was from   
fear, disgust, or something else. He continued on, throwing in some   
stories of the past, trying to keep it as balanced as possible. No need   
to make himself out to be worse than he was, not this time.   
  
Once the short ride through his background was done, he focused back on   
when they had met.  
  
"I first saw you at the Bronze. It's a night spot that the young ones   
like to hang out in," he clarified when he saw her puzzlement. "Anyway,   
you were dancing, and you looked...well, you were really kind of   
fabulous. The local baddies had asked me to kill you to get you out of   
the way. In exchange, they would let Dru have access to the Hellmouth   
in order to regain her strength. Sounded like a fair deal, so I took   
it. It wasn't anything personal, not at first."  
  
"I think I'd take a different view on that," Buffy replied, sounding a   
touch like her old self. He couldn't help smiling.  
  
"True, very true. They wanted it to all come down on Saturday, so I   
arranged it so you went into the alley to save some poor girl from one   
of the minions. I checked out...your fighting style and let you know   
we'd be fighting that day."  
  
She blinked in surprise. "Wait a minute. So you told me when you were   
going to attack before you did it?"  
  
"Yeah, but I got bored. Ended up crashing some sorta school shindig,   
and we had our first fight right there. I had you on the ropes until   
your mum cracked me on the back of the head with an axe. Blunt side, of   
course. She was standing all warrior woman-like, yelling, 'Get the hell   
away from my daughter!' " He chuckled at the memory, then sighed. "God,   
I miss her."  
  
"Wow. Go Mom," she said proudly, with a trace of sadness herself, then   
frowned. "Wait...you miss her? After she hit you with an axe?"  
  
"I'll explain later." He continued on, telling her about the Order of   
Taraka, about restoring Dru by using a ritual involving Angel, her   
sire. This threw Buffy for a loop, and he realized they never told her   
about the peculiar relationship he shared with her vampire ex-  
boyfriend.   
  
"Angel was my grandsire, but for the first eighteen years of my unlife,   
he really *was* my sire. Everything I learned about being a vampire I   
took from him. Hell, in a way I wanted to be him--but really it was   
about acceptance. Not just from him, but from all of 'em," Spike   
explained, then noticed he'd said more than he'd meant to expose.   
"Well, anyway, he sired Dru, who sired me. His sire was Darla, who was   
dust for awhile, but she got mojo'd back somehow."  
  
Buffy nodded, taking this better than he expected. "Willow told me some   
things about Angel. About the soul, and the curse...but what you've   
told me is more than she said. She didn't even tell me what made him go   
all evil again."  
  
"You mean...you don't know?" He gawked at her in disbelief.  
  
"Know what?"  
  
His head sank into his hands, and he let out a short, bitter laugh.   
Somehow, it seemed all too unfair that he was the one to tell her this   
fragment of her past. "Buffy, you...uh, had a night of passion. With   
him. On your seventeenth birthday."  
  
Now it was her turn for widened eyes. "I slept with him? And he turned   
evil??"  
  
The horror in her eyes was almost too much for him to bear. "Oh God,   
no. Pet, it's not--you didn't turn him evil. He had a moment of soddin'   
perfect happiness. That's what ended the curse."  
  
"Which just happened to be sleeping with him," she sighed, partly   
disgusted and bemused. "No wonder Willow was so worried about Angel   
seeing me again."   
  
Spike blinked in confusion, and Buffy explained, "She was afraid that   
he'd have another moment of perfect happiness."  
  
"Oh. Well, that...that's understandable." He remembered his own   
feelings on hearing Buffy was alive. If that wasn't perfect happiness,   
he didn't know what was. "No need getting the poof all happy, and   
turning him back into Angelus."  
  
"Poof? What's that mean?"  
  
"Well, what d'you think it means?" He countered with a sly look. She   
blushed, and he found himself falling even more in love with her, if   
that was possible.  
  
"I, um, think I can guess. From what I've heard of him, he does seem   
kind of...odd."  
  
He felt like he'd just been bitch-slapped with an I-beam. Had she just   
said what he thought she'd said? He cleared his throat. "Oh really? And   
what was that?"  
  
"Well, that he just liked to hang out at home, read books, a real loner   
type. Not it means anything, but he just seems kind of, I don't   
know...boring?"  
  
Spike wanted to crow his delight to the world at hearing those words   
coming from Buffy's mouth. Then he recalled that she didn't remember   
Angel--these observations were from different people with different   
points of view....ah, bugger it.   
  
He grinned widely and replied, "You don't know how I never thought I'd   
hear that coming from you. He was better without the soul, and that's   
saying something."  
  
"Plus, Willow tells me that he had a soul for a hundred years or so,   
and spent all that time moping and brooding until he met me. Talk about   
co-dependency issues! Yikes. I mean, what did I see in him? He's   
doesn't mix with people, doesn't go out and have fun, and likes to   
mope. He's gotta be good-looking or something, right?"  
  
Spike grimaced. "He's kind of got this protruding forehead, and his   
hair is a mess. All that nancy-boy hair gel he uses. He's scary without   
even trying."  
  
Buffy laughed, and he laughed with her, wrapped up in this strange   
spell being woven; he didn't want it to end. Eventually, though,   
matters turned back to the topic on hand, and he continued on with his   
recitation of their shared past.  
  
He skipped over most of the days after Angel's conversion, and narrowed   
on to the deal he decided to make with the Slayer. It had taken Dru's   
lack of faithfulness and Angelus' exploitation of that fact to make him   
switch sides and keep the world from ending. He told how he'd been   
there when her mother found out about her being the Slayer, and the   
beginning of the fallout that he later learned about from her mother.   
  
Buffy listened attentively as he explained the plan they'd devised, and   
how it had all gone down. He could only tell her the events up to a   
certain point, then he said, "I saw you fighting against Angelus as I   
was leaving. You weren't doing so good, and for a moment I...I think I   
was worried. But it passed and I went on my merry way with Dru.   
Eventually you beat him and he got sent to Hell."  
  
"And he got back, somehow. Kind of like the same somehow I had, if what   
Willow told me is true."  
  
"I hope so," he replied, recalling his conversation with Xander. "I   
really do."  
  
Buffy left that comment alone, so he continued--with some   
embarrassment--onto the fragment of time he'd spent in Sunnydale the   
following year. Moping over Dru leaving him, complaining to Joyce with   
cocoa in hand, and spending much of the time drunk was balanced with   
the things he'd done while he was there. She took his kidnapping of   
Willow and Xander with some distaste, but she appeared to be more   
disgusted with his drunkenness than his misbehavior.   
  
Then he was standing at the precipice of the rest of the story, leading   
to his chipped status and his falling in love with her. He detailed the   
Gem of Amara fiasco in all its ugliness, and she winced when he   
explained how he'd discovered about her and Parker. When Buffy told him   
Willow hadn't gotten that far in her past, he backed off and sighed in   
frustration.   
  
"Sorry, pet. Will should be the one telling you all about that. And I   
think I'd better stop for now, considering the rest of the tale ends up   
delving into things that I shouldn't be mentioning."  
  
She folded her arms defiantly, and he knew he'd already lost. "I came   
here to know everything, and I'm not going until I hear it. You can   
just stick to the me and you stuff, and forget the rest."  
  
He sighed again, wondering how he'd gotten into this mess, then agreed   
to it. He informed her about getting captured by the Initiative,   
leaving out any mention of Riley, and attacking Willow in place of her   
the same night he escaped.  
  
"I tried to bite her, but I couldn't...every time I tried, I got this   
terrible jolt, it's so incredibly painful that it just stops me cold.   
Turns out the lab doctors put a chip in my head that prevents me from   
hurting people. Can't even slap a wrist without it flaring up. I've had   
it for not quite two years."  
  
"So that's why the rest of them trust you. You're not a threat   
anymore."  
  
He balked, indignant for a moment, then sagged as he accepted the   
truth. "Well, yeah. But back then, I didn't accept that." He explained   
how they had taken him in, told most of the anecdotes of living amongst   
the group, especially where Willow's spell had make them think they   
were in love. Buffy took that with a raised eyebrow, but curiously said   
nothing of it.  
  
Then he told of the deal with Adam, and gave his side of what had   
happened. Buffy now understood what Dawn had been talking about, but   
she gave no indication of her own feelings on the matter. Spike   
considered it an encouragement to continue, so he soon delved into the   
beginning of the whole mess that had proven, once again, he truly was   
love's bitch.  
  
He stalled after detailing the fight in the operating theater,   
reluctant to share his dream from that night, and the subsequent   
revelation. Buffy sensed this and waited for him to say something.   
Letting out a slow breath, he skipped over it as something she didn't   
need to know and plowed on, hedging the rest of the story and hopefully   
obscuring his actions' true motives.   
  
But he could tell that as he told the cleaned-up version of his early   
efforts to impress her, Buffy was no longer buying it. Oh, she nodded   
and listened, but he could see the flatness in her eyes. She knew he   
was lying, and it killed him to see her pulling away already.  
  
By then he'd reached the point in the narrative where the original   
revelation of his love for her had gone so horribly wrong. He paused   
and looked down at his hands, trying to decide the best way to go on,   
when he felt Buffy's hand on his arm. He glanced up to find her   
kneeling next to him, an inscrutable look on her face.  
  
"Spike, just tell me the truth. I want to know it, even if it's dark   
and horrible."  
  
"I don't know if I can tell you this. And I think if I did tell you,   
I'm pretty sure your mates would sooner stake me than let me near you   
again."  
  
A trace of fear went across her face, but the steel returned in force.   
"If that's true, then I *have* to know, Spike. Please."  
  
"I can't. Maybe, after a week or two, if you haven't remembered it   
yourself..." The look in her eyes stopped that line of thinking cold.   
She wanted to know, wanted it so badly that she would take any and all   
consequences. It was the Slayer looking at him, and he knew for a fact   
that she backed down from nothing.  
  
He sagged his shoulders in defeat, then met her gaze with one of his   
own. She unconsciously moved back a bit at the sudden resolve, but her   
hand remained on his arm. Unable to bear her touch in the face of yet   
another rejection, Spike stood up and wandered a few steps away.   
Confused, Buffy took a place on the bench he vacated, still waiting for   
the rest of the story.  
  
Finally, he turned and faced her. "Buffy, all the stuff I mentioned   
earlier, about fighting evil and helping you out with the slaying...I   
left out why I did it. It's because...I fell in love with you. And I   
still love you, to this very moment."  
  
  
  
It was totally not what she expected to hear. Sure, she'd felt some   
vibes from him earlier, but she wouldn't have pegged it as love. More   
like affection, or something brotherly, protective. Suddenly, all his   
reactions in the magic shop made perfect sense, and she knew the reason   
why.  
  
"I didn't love you back."  
  
He didn't flinch at her words, but she could see the pain in his eyes.   
No, she wouldn't have loved him, not after all the things they'd gone   
through.   
  
He swallowed, then replied, "I knew you wouldn't love something like   
me, that it was wrong and perverse. But the day you found out, all I   
wanted was a chance, some possibility that someday, maybe, you could   
feel..." He stopped, then said, "Doesn't matter. I know it won't   
happen, now. Then, I wasn't quite ready to accept it."  
  
And he told how it all happened, down to the moment in the warehouse   
and Dru's arrival in Sunnydale. How he was torn between his two choices   
until he realized the choice had already been made long ago. How he   
found her coming out of the tunnel basement after seeing his shrine,   
and how, with some maneuvering, he soon had Buffy chained up and   
Drusilla tied to a support beam. No lurid detail was left out, although   
this time he got to explain his confusion, rage, and incomprehension at   
it all.  
  
Her face paled at the description, and he wondered if maybe he   
shouldn't have told her so soon after being back from the dead.   
However, she soaked up the information as if needing it to survive, and   
he wasn't willing to deny her something she wanted so badly. It might   
have been the wrong thing to do, but he also felt that she shouldn't be   
ignorant of his true nature and their true relationship, if one could   
call it that.  
  
Spike was mentioning the aftermath when Buffy interrupted him. "Dawn   
told me you were tortured--when did that happen?"  
  
He clenched his jaw in memory; he *really* didn't want to go into   
detail on that. "It was after your mum died. Those lackeys of that bint   
Glory thought I was the Key, since..." he trailed off, realizing in   
horror that he now had to explain the Buffy bot. He'd rather have been   
tortured again. Still, it had to be done, and the quicker it was told,   
the faster it would be over. "But I'm getting ahead of myself, here.   
Something happened before then that you need to know."  
  
Most of the time during the retelling of the bot escapade, he stared at   
the floor, unable to meet her eyes. It was humiliating, to repeat this   
to her when he had violently hoped only a few months before, that the   
matter was forgiven and never to be mentioned again. He winced when he   
caught her pulling her arms around herself, as if to block the   
horridness of what he was describing.   
  
"While Xander was giving me what for, those moldy Glory minions popped   
in, we had a row that resulted in Xander on the floor unconscious, and   
me being taken before Glory as the Key. She spotted me for a vampire   
real quick, and just when I thought I was off the hook, those bastards   
told her why they picked me up. She tortured me for info on who the Key   
was, I wouldn't tell her, and that's that."  
  
"What--what did she do to you? How did she..."  
  
"It was *torture*, pet. What the bloody hell do you want, a scrapbook?   
Pictures of Spike all banged up, bleeding and broken, with the frilly   
little edges pasted around 'em?"  
  
"God, no," she replied, and he heard some of the iron spine he so   
admired snapping back into place. "You endured something horrible,   
Spike, and I'm not going to toss it aside. Just...tell me what   
happened. Please?"  
  
It was the 'please' that got him, this time. "Right, then. Here's the   
short version--Glory knocked me into a wall, dug a finger into my   
chest, and then decided to write some haikus on my back using holy   
water and a brush. Then she chained me to the ceiling, and had a bit of   
fun with a lead pipe. Broke some ribs and a leg, then got bored with   
that and decided to beat me about the face for awhile. After that she   
grabbed a knife and meant to literally peel my skin off. She started to   
do it, too, until I stalled by saying I'd tell her who the Key was.  
  
"So I asked for time, then water, and soon she got fed up with the   
stalling and smashed a glass into my face. I kept stalling though,   
trying to piss her off. I hoped that if I got her mad enough, she'd   
punch me so hard it would break the chains. After royally insulting   
her, she did, and I went through the door. Somehow, I managed to get up   
and reach the elevator, dropped down a floor or two before I hit the   
top of the car, and got through the trap door into the car itself. At   
that point you showed up, and sometime after that I passed out."  
  
He finally looked over at Buffy, and was amazed at the sympathy and   
horror in her eyes. "Oh God. Dawn never told me about that."  
  
"I never told anyone until right now, pet. Didn't need to, really--it   
was all there for anyone to see. After the Watcher and the boy dropped   
me off, you showed up dressed in the bot's clothes planning to find out   
if I'd spilled the info on Dawn to Glory.   
  
"You had me fooled, straight away. I told you that I couldn't let   
anything happen to Dawn because I knew if it did, it would destroy you.   
I'd rather die than see you in pain, and I would have let Glory kill me   
if it meant keeping her from finding out about Dawn. But somehow,   
somewhere along the line, I've come to like the Niblet as well. That's   
not something I've ever told you, before."  
  
Spike watched as she absorbed this, and her arms disentangled   
themselves from around her body, no longer a shield between them.  
  
"Come here," Buffy held out her hand, and in a daze he complied, taking   
her hand in his and letting her guide him down onto the stone bench.   
After a moment, with her hand still entwined with his, she asked, "What   
did I do when I found out?"  
  
He smiled for the first time in awhile, remembering the feel of her   
lips against his. "You kissed me. I'm not sure why, even now, but if I   
had to guess, I'd say it was in gratitude."  
  
Her eyebrows raised at that, and he added, "Oh, at first I thought it   
was the bot, even if it didn't make sense...but after a second I knew   
it was you. Shocked the hell out of me. You just stared back, not   
giving away an inch. I asked about the bot, you said it was gone. Then   
you told me what I did for you and Dawn was real, and that you wouldn't   
forget it."  
  
What a wonderful moment that had been, even if he hadn't been able to   
believe it, at first. "Then you left, and things between us became a   
little more settled. Not perfect, but it was a hell of a lot better   
than it had been."  
  
Her gaze fixed on his lips, as if trying to imagine what it had been   
like. So it didn't surprise him too much when she asked, "How was it?   
The kiss, I mean?"  
  
"Well, my lip was all swollen, so there wasn't much in the way of   
action, but it was...amazing."  
  
"I wish I could remember. Obviously, I didn't keep my promise about not   
forgetting it."  
  
"Buffy, that's not important. You're here, and that's all I could hope   
for."  
  
She looked at him in consideration and thought. "You should have more   
to hope for than that. Don't worry...I'll try not to forget this one,"   
she said, right before she tilted her head and raised up just high   
enough so that her lips met his, in an echo of one she'd given months   
ago.  
  
This time, however, Spike didn't pull away. He was stunned into   
compliance; the idea that maybe this wasn't a good thing to be doing so   
soon never even made its way to the front of his mind. When he kissed   
back, she responded in a way that made his undead heart leap, and it   
was several, long seconds before the kiss was broken.   
  
He looked into her eyes, trying to gauge whether she was regretful or   
in shock, but he never expected to see acceptance there, mixed with a   
profound nervousness. Her mouth quirked into a dazed half-smile.  
  
"Wow. That was...wow. Unless it wasn't, for you?"  
  
He chuckled at the absurd thought, then smiled warmly. "Don't even   
think that, love." Then, in a flash of insight, he realized that the   
Buffy he'd just kissed was emotionally still a fifteen-year-old girl,   
and not the experienced woman he knew. Had she even been kissed yet, as   
far as she remembered?  
  
Unsure how to ask, Buffy saved him the trouble by replying, "It's   
just...a couple kisses does not exactly make for a basis of experience,   
and I'm sure you've had years and years of lots of kissing...and other   
things."  
  
"Years, yes. Partners aren't exactly in the double digits, though." He   
let out a bitter laugh. "Not even close. You were up on me, there."  
  
"I was? I mean, am? God, I wasn't...easy, was I?" Her face was blazing   
red, and though it amused him to see her so flustered, he gave her a   
reassuring smile.  
  
"No, pet. That, I can certainly say, you were not." She smiled back,   
and when their eyes met, the desire to see if they could do better the   
second time around nearly overwhelmed him.  
  
The moment passed, and Buffy said into the silence, "Well, I ought   
to...y'know, leave. They don't know I'm out here, and it's getting   
pretty late. I didn't sleep well last night."  
  
This information jarred something in the back of his brain. "You've   
been around since last night?"  
  
"Yeah, I was in someone's backyard a few blocks down from here. Why?"  
  
"Oh. Uh, no reason. Just curious, is all." That cold breeze from last   
night, with her scent mixed in...he'd thought it was a sensory   
hallucination. Had it been her, after all? He didn't know what to think   
of it. Shrugging the thoughts aside, including the indulgent ones   
stirred up by the kiss, he continued, "I'll walk you home, make sure   
you get back in one piece."  
  
He half-expected her to decline, but she nodded in agreement. "I   
wouldn't mind having some company. Sunnydale at night doesn't appear to   
be the friendliest environment."  
  
"Depends on who your friends are," he said in a wry tone, holding the   
door open for her as she passed through. After a stretch of mutual   
quiet while walking through the graveyard, Buffy asked him if they were   
friends.  
  
He didn't know what to say to that. "I don't know if we are. Why? Do   
you want to be?"  
  
"As opposed to being enemies? Definitely," she smiled, and he   
reciprocated. It wasn't his fantasy come true, but having this   
comfortable bond with her was more than he could've hoped for.   
  
"Then it's a deal. If you want, I'll go patrolling with you, until   
you're up to snuff."  
  
"Patrolling? Oh, you mean the slaying thing. Yeah, sure--I need all the   
help I can get, at this point. You saw my lack of skills in dealing   
with the 80s throwbacks."  
  
He snorted a laugh, then shook his head. "Love, you've still got the   
moves. All you have to do is let your body remember, while keeping your   
mind separate and open for surprises."  
  
"That's all, huh? And here I thought it was gonna be hard."  
  
"Now, now. Don't be all snippy. If it's really so burdensome for you, I   
can always be your punching bag."  
  
She glanced over at him. "Is that a standing offer?"  
  
"As close as you get from me, pet." He resisted the urge to grab a   
cigarette from his coat pocket. There was no need for the cool   
posturing, not with her.  
  
"I'll keep that in mind," Buffy answered back. Somehow, they were   
already at her house, and she jumped a bit at the sight. "We're here?"  
  
"That we are." Spike watched in a mixture of amusement and befuddlement   
as she tried to climb up the tree. "I've heard there's these bloody   
amazing things now, Buffy. They're called doors."  
  
She sighed in exasperation for the first time since she'd come back,   
and he grinned like a maniac. The fact he could still do this to her   
made her lack of memory not quite so bad. "Spike, I can't go in that   
way; I crawled out the window so no one knew I left. Plus, I...uh,   
don't have a key."  
  
He continued to watch as she tried to reach the lowest branch. "Need a   
boost?"  
  
"Uh, *yeah*. If it doesn't cut into your busy social life."  
  
"Why don't we skip the whole tree thing and go straight for the roof?"   
He replied, and led her over to the corner of the porch. "I'll give you   
a hand up, then all you have to do is let instinct take over."  
  
"I don't know...it doesn't look like there's a way up from here."  
  
Spike sighed at her response, but composed himself and said, "All   
right, fine. I'll go first. You watch me, then just repeat what I do."   
He grabbed onto the railing and pulled himself onto a ledge, then   
jumped and rolled onto the roof.  
  
"I can't do that!" Buffy said in a harsh whisper, staring at him in   
disbelief.  
  
"Sure you can. I'll help pull you the rest of the way, if you need it."  
  
She judged the distance by eye, then nervously climbed up the railing   
and hung onto the post. Spike peered down and smiled in what he hoped   
was encouragement. "Great, pet. Now jump."  
  
"I don't think I can jump that high."  
  
"If I can do it, you sure can. Just let your body go, and do it on   
instinct."  
  
"Right, Obi-Wan," she smirked. He gave her a glare for show, but   
inwardly he knew he had never been happier.   
  
  
****  
  
  
Spike had made it look easy, flitting up there as if he was weightless.   
Now he expected her to do the same.   
  
Exhaling out her anxiety, she looked back up into the face of the man   
waiting for her, who placed his trust and faith in her forgotten   
abilities. Could she really do this?  
  
Only one way to find out. She closed her eyes and felt her balance as   
something calm and assured, then jumped. Her hands found the edge and   
her body did a graceful somersault over the roof's surface--until she   
impacted with something fleshy and clad in leather.  
  
As her senses reoriented to their new surroundings, she found herself   
lying across Spike, who was beginning to realize his new position.   
  
"Oh! I'm sorry," Buffy mumbled in embarrassment, and tried to   
disentangle herself from him. It proved to be a difficult task on a   
pitched roof, and she was sure the ruckus they created ended up making   
the stealthy entrance moot.  
  
"No, I shoulda backed off. I knew you could do it," he replied with a   
soft grin on his face, and she smiled back in pride. They ended up   
holding onto each other for balance as they got up, and soon Buffy had   
crawled through her window, grateful for the safe ending to a harrowing   
night.  
  
Spike watched her with a forlorn look from just outside the window, but   
said nothing. Buffy gestured for him to come inside, and she later   
wished she'd had his reaction on tape. Ultimately, however, he begged   
off and she felt a keen disappointment.  
  
"Well, I guess I'll see you tomorrow, then," she replied. She leaned   
out and gave him a quick kiss on the cheek, near enough to his mouth   
that if he'd turned his head, they would have had their second kiss of   
the night. "That's for helping me get back into the house."  
  
"Anytime, Buffy," he said, sounding more than a little thrown at her   
behavior. His smile told her that it was a good kind of confusion,   
though, and she watched as he casually dropped off the edge of the roof   
to the ground below. He waved once, then disappeared into the darkness.   
  
  
****  
  
  
He couldn't believe it. Not one moment, not an iota of what had just   
happened. The feel of her lips on his cheek and mouth were scorched   
there for eternity. All he had to do was close his eyes, and he could   
relive the instant over...  
  
Which caused him to trip unceremoniously over someone's lawn gnome. But   
even splayed in the dew-laden grass, he grinned with unlimited joy.  
  
If he'd thought he was in love with her before, it now paled in   
comparison to the raging passion within him. No one has loved as   
fiercely as I do at this moment, he assured himself, and allowed a bit   
of dwelling on that fact before pulling himself up and continuing home.   
Not even the prospect of the encroaching dawn could weaken the bounce   
in his steps, and he whistled through the graveyard just because he   
could.  



	5. Ground Zero

Author's note: Finally, I have the rest of this formatted and done. The wait is over! :)  
  
  
  
Lost and Foundering  
  
  
~**~**~  
  
Chapter Five  
  
~**~**~  
  
  
Sunlight filtered through her blinds and into her eyes, jarring Buffy   
out of the nice moment she'd been having with Spike...then cold reality   
brought her the rest of the way awake. She groaned both at the   
realization that the dream hadn't been real, and that today was the day   
she had to meet another member of the group. That guy from   
England...Giles, wasn't it?  
  
She was tired of the introductions already, but she knew it was only   
the beginning. And it was terrifying to contemplate. Sure, talking to   
Spike last night was one thing, but there was so much to know, so much   
to relearn.   
  
One thing was for sure, her friends' version of events hadn't been half   
as detailed as Spike's. The horrible secret wasn't quite so horrible   
after all, and her opinion of him hadn't been severely damaged.   
Instead, she felt she knew him better than ever, possibly even more   
than she did before.   
  
She smiled unconsciously at the thought of him, then frowned in sudden   
alarm. Did she even have anything decent to wear, today? And what was   
the five-years-in-the-future's equivalent of looking interested, but   
not desperate?  
  
Six different outfits were discarded until she found something she   
liked that wasn't too flashy, and yet didn't scream 'old maid'. Well,   
*nothing* in her closet screamed that, but some tops looked   
downright...mature. Dawn had informed her that halter tops were back in   
style, so the black one seemed appropriate. The astounding selection of   
leather--in all shades and hues--scared her into a more sedate pair of   
jeans. They were a bit low, but Dawn had assured her yesterday that it   
was in fashion. Black boots finished the look, and smiled at her   
reflection.  
  
"Looking good, if I do say so myself." Why she had taken so much effort   
in picking out clothes didn't really filter into her consciousness. If   
she'd thought about it, she might have admitted there was a chance she   
hoped to impress a certain platinum blond vampire.  
  
It was still disconcerting to see this other person in the mirror, one   
who looked as if she had it all together. The truth was, she got   
through each day by not thinking too hard about the realities of her   
situation. Sometimes, she even allowed herself to think her mother   
wasn't really gone, only on an extended vacation. The idea of visiting   
her mother's grave, as well as her own, filled her with unending   
anxiety,  
  
A knock on the door disturbed her thoughts, and a voice called out,   
"Are you ready, Buffy?"  
  
It was Dawn. Buffy yelled back, "Almost. I'll be there in a minute."  
  
Footsteps trailed away down the stairs, and Buffy fussed a little with   
her hair, until she decided that it looked tolerable and left her room;   
any further work to be done had to be on the inside, not the outside.   
  
  
****  
  
  
Tara hadn't said much as they ate breakfast. She only wished Willow   
hadn't been scheduled for work today, then she could've been the one to   
help re-introduce Buffy to Giles. As it was, Tara didn't feel like a   
part of the gang. Not enough to stand in Willow's stead, at least.  
  
Xander was picking Giles up at the airport and bringing him to the   
house--Anya hadn't wanted any large displays of emotion scaring off her   
customers, and they all figured it would be better in the long run,   
anyway.  
  
They showed up twenty minutes ahead of schedule. Tara and Dawn were   
cleaning up the kitchen when the doorbell rang. Buffy volunteered to   
get it, but Tara shuffled her to the living room and opened the door   
herself--she wanted Giles to make it past the threshold, before he did   
anything drastic.  
  
"Tara--is she here?" were the first words out of Giles' mouth as he   
came in, but as he looked into the living room, those words became   
moot. He approached her cautiously at first, looking like he had five   
different thoughts running through his head at once, and he couldn't   
decide which one had the greatest priority. Then he smiled in relief   
and joy, and let out a held breath.  
  
Buffy smiled in an attempt to be cordial, but she wasn't prepared for   
the hug that enveloped her. After a tense second, she relaxed into the   
hug and let Giles hold her. It had been hard to explain the bond   
between him and the Slayer, but seeing Buffy eventually hug the older   
man back was enough to convince Tara that she understood, and also   
cause her eyes to sting with a hint of tears. She saw Xander blink a   
few times more than needed, as well, until the two separated.  
  
"Buffy, I can't believe you're alive," Giles started, then took off his   
glasses to wipe his eyes. "Oh, I'm terribly sorry, I forgot. They, um,   
told me that you don't remember me--"  
  
"It's okay, really. I wish I could. It sucks to not remember the last   
five years of your life. If nothing else, those final years of high   
school just went down the drain," she added, trying to lighten the   
mood.  
  
"Oh God, I never thought of that," Xander replied in horror. Whether it   
was genuine or not, Tara couldn't tell. "Most people forget what they   
learned in high school, but this wasn't even voluntary."  
  
"You can look at my textbooks if you want to, Buffy," Dawn replied, and   
her sister gave her a startled look.  
  
"Ah, thanks, but no. If I got the diploma, that's enough for me. I   
won't be doing college anytime soon. If it's August, it's too late for   
that now, anyway."  
  
"Quite right," Giles added. "Besides, we're going to have to clear up   
the little matter of your, uh..."  
  
"Demise?" Buffy filled in. "Yeah, that's a problem."  
  
"I talked to the Council before coming here, and they're working on a   
way to restore your, um, living status. Hopefully, they can cut through   
the red tape and drudge up the necessary paperwork."  
  
"Ugh. Paperwork equals forms, which is not a Buffy forte," the blonde   
Slayer replied, looking less than thrilled.  
  
Giles shuffled uneasily. "Yes, well. I don't think we'll need more than   
your signature in a few places, but that's for later. Right now,   
I...um, really need to use the, uh...it was a long flight, after all--"  
  
"Upstairs, on the left," Buffy replied, and Giles nodded gratefully   
before heading up the stairs.  
  
  
****  
  
  
After Giles came back down, looking much more relaxed than earlier, the   
interrogation began. Or at least, that's how it felt to Buffy. No, she   
couldn't remember anything right before ending up in someone's   
backyard. Yes, she was healthy and whole--more whole than before,   
considering the missing scars. No, yes, no...and so on. Giles seemed to   
have a never-ending line of questions, and after a hour of being   
grilled, Buffy was through with it.  
  
He was about to ask another question when she cut in. "Giles, why don't   
we call it a day, huh? Knowing my position in relevance to the   
alignment of the stars that night isn't going to get us any answers."  
  
"But, there's so much I still don't know..."  
  
"That makes two of us, then. The horse's mouth is open, and you're   
looking inside. Don't."  
  
He sagged into the couch, weary from jet lag and the frustration of not   
knowing the truth. "If we don't find out how it happened, how can we be   
sure it won't reverse?"  
  
"Reverse?" This was a strange and new concept Buffy didn't like. "Y-you   
think it can reverse?"  
  
Xander glanced at Giles, who shared another one of those looks she   
hated. "I wouldn't normally think so, but this town does sit on a   
Hellmouth. If someone cast a spell to bring you back, we have no way of   
knowing whether it was for good or ill. Did Willow try any spells on   
Buffy, Tara?"  
  
"Um, no. I-I don't think so. She was as surprised as all of us when   
Buffy showed up at the door."  
  
"I didn't mean that Willow did a resurrection," Giles replied, trying   
to smooth over her ruffled feathers. "I just wondered if she did any   
detection spells or wards."  
  
"Oh! No, not that I saw. Do-do you want me to try something? I have my   
magic supplies in my room, I could do a spell to see if someone cast   
anything on Buffy, maybe to block her memory."  
  
"Blocking memory...that's an excellent idea, Tara. Would you?" The   
blonde woman nodded and scurried up the stairs, leaving Buffy   
completely baffled.  
  
"You're going to do a spell, now? Before lunch? Isn't, uh, nighttime   
more appropriate for these kinds of things...?"  
  
"You'll be fine, Buffy. It won't do anything to you, it will only sense   
something that's been done to you. That's all."  
  
"Oh. Good." She suddenly wasn't feeling so good, however.  
  
In minutes she was sitting cross-legged on the floor, while Tara   
prepared the space around her for the spell. The witch's nervous   
demeanor faded as she became more engrossed in the spell, and Buffy   
slowly felt herself relax. The words lulled her, and soon she felt   
partly sleepy, and partly weightless, with only some unknown force   
keeping her in place.  
  
It was an indeterminate time later when the spell broke, and Buffy   
opened her eyes to find the group looking even more frustrated.  
  
"Nothing, huh?"  
  
"Well, nothing in this case can also be something," Giles hedged,   
staring absently at the floor in thought. "No one's cast a spell to   
block your memory, or a spell to bring you back. Which would mean..."  
  
"...That the Powers are involved, somehow," Tara finished, her voice   
softened in awe.  
  
Buffy blinked, then asked, "You mean, the same guys who chose me in the   
first place?"  
  
"Possibly," The Watcher answered in a tone that didn't satisfy her   
nerves. "If so, then obviously you weren't meant to die. But why three   
months later? I don't understand."  
  
Xander smiled. "Join the club, Giles. We Who Do Not Understand are   
happy to have you."  
  
Giles gave him a glare for his efforts, then sighed. "It's times like   
these that I really miss my books."  
  
  
****  
  
  
It was while at work that Willow realized she still hadn't called   
Angel. Thankfully she wasn't working a full shift, and an hour later   
she was home, calling his office and hoping he was awake.  
  
"Angel Investigations, we help the hopeless. How can we help you?"  
  
"Cordelia? This is Willow. Listen, I've got some majorly wiggy news,   
and you better be sitting down when I tell you..."  
  
Her shriek at hearing Buffy was alive nearly punctured Willow's   
eardrums, and the resulting babble didn't become recognizable until   
Cordy took a deep breath.  
  
"Okay, so she's fine? All her fingers and toes, no moldy parts?"  
  
"Yes, and ew--thanks for the visual picture," Willow remarked. "Is   
Angel awake?"  
  
"Not yet. He's normally not up for another...oh, here he is."  
  
Willow heard something that sounded like Angel, Wesley, and Cordelia   
discussing something, then Cordy forced him to take the phone.  
  
"Uh, hi Willow. Cordy won't tell me what's going on, so maybe you could   
fill me in?"  
  
"Yeah." Telling Cordelia was one thing, but how could she explain this   
to Angel? "It's good news, really good news, so don't get *too* happy,   
okay?"  
  
"Willow..."  
  
"All right, all right. It's Buffy...she's alive." Silence, then the   
sound of plastic hitting something solid. "Um, hello?"  
  
More silence, then Angel's voice came over the receiver. "Sorry. I, uh,   
dropped the phone. I thought I heard you say Buffy was alive."  
  
"That's because she is. Don't drop the phone again!" Once she got his   
reassurance that he wouldn't, she continued. "Now, her memory is   
missing the last five years, so it's not like everything's okay. But   
she's back--it's really her."  
  
The silence on the other end illustrated that the truth was finally   
taking hold. The intrepid witch could practically feel the waves of   
happiness and melancholy coming from the phone. "Willow, I need to--I   
have to see her."  
  
"She doesn't remember you, Angel," she replied sadly. "I won't say that   
you can't, but you have to be prepared for it. I'm hoping that the   
memories are only being repressed somehow, and aren't really gone...but   
this Buffy is like ground zero Buffy, starting from scratch. She   
doesn't even remember Dawn."  
  
"How could she--oh, right. You told us about the monk's spell."  
  
"I know, it's easy to forget. She's...staying at her old house, and   
Giles is coming in today. He should be there, already. If you come up,   
make sure to call ahead of time, and let us know you're coming, okay?"  
  
"I will. As soon as the sun goes down, I'll be on my way."  
  
They said good-bye, and Willow sagged onto her bed, worried for her   
friend and Angel. What if seeing each other brought back the old   
attraction, and with it, the old pain? Or what if Buffy didn't feel   
anything for Angel? She wasn't sure the souled vampire could take it,   
if all their shared memories were now only his.  
  
Maybe he would change his mind...but then Willow visited RealityLand,   
and shook her head. Of course he would come; how could he not?  
  
  
****  
  
  
Buffy was admittedly nervous about the upcoming reunion. Willow had   
informed her that the former love of her life was coming up from Los   
Angeles to see her, and if she believed what her gut was telling her,   
they were in for a mutual, horrible experience.  
  
Tara had been the one to take his call on when he planned to arrive,   
and Buffy had stood there, petrified. What if he wanted to talk to her?   
What would she say? Hey, I hear we used to be quite the pair?  
  
Somehow, Spike had found out that Angel was coming--Buffy assumed it   
was Dawn, since as soon as she'd heard the news, she had run out the   
door to parts unknown--and he now sat in the living room, watching TV   
with Dawn and basically killing time. Xander and Anya had volunteered   
to patrol tonight--for some reason, he wasn't too interested in seeing   
Angel again, but he wouldn't say why.   
  
Willow and Tara were out on the porch, acting as a first line of   
defense for Angel's arrival, while Giles spent much of his time trying   
to fill the Slayer information gaps in Willow's attempt to explain her   
background, as they sat in the dining room. Buffy listened with half an   
ear, placing equal parts of attention to the Watcher, the potential   
sound of a car driving up, and Spike and Dawn's rollicking good times   
in the next room.  
  
Giles was in the midst of explaining how the two Slayers had come   
about, and noting how Buffy's second death hadn't created another   
Slayer, when she heard the telltale roar of a car just arriving from   
outside.  
  
The front door opened up, and Tara poked her head in. "He's here."  
  
As the witch darted back outside, Buffy's gaze unwittingly caught with   
Spike's. He certainly didn't look thrilled, and she was sure the same   
expression was on her own face. She gave him an encouraging smile that   
she didn't feel, and he copied it back to her, adding a gesture that   
asked if she wanted him to go. When she shook her head, he relaxed into   
the couch with a half-smile still on his face.  
  
The smile didn't last long. A male voice broke the tranquility outside,   
and a short bit of conversation ensued--mostly from Willow. Buffy stood   
up and tried to figure out where to stand. Close to the door, or   
farther back? Maybe she should be in the living room, with Spike and   
Dawn...  
  
Then the door opened again, and all those thoughts fled from her mind.   
A tall, dark-haired man, a bit on the pale side, stalked through the   
door, his eyes searching for something or someone, most likely her. He   
saw Spike first, and tensed as if ready to pounce. Spike's posture was   
just as edgy, but his gaze flicked over to her as if both trying to   
reassure her and direct Angel at the same time. She froze like prey, as   
if movement would betray her, and the newcomer's eyes fell on her at   
last.   
  
Bulky was the first descriptive word to pop into Buffy's mind. His eyes   
were shadowed by a brow that, truly, was caveman-like. And his hair   
*did* stick straight up, she discovered to her amazement. She had to   
admit, he was attractive in a manly testosterone sort of way--all arms   
and shoulders. Yeah, she could see how she might have fallen for him,   
back in the day. Which meant diddly-squat now, since she could look at   
him and feel nothing besides a mild curiosity.  
  
"Buffy...God, it's true." He took a hesitant step forward, then   
continued, "Do...do you remember me?"  
  
She winced, knowing this was going to hurt him. "No, I'm sorry. I don't   
remember you at all. They've told me about you, though, and about me,   
and...and stuff."  
  
"Oh." There didn't seem to be anything he could add to that. "But   
there's nothing else that's different, right? You're still Buffy?"  
  
"Yes. Ah, except...all my scars are missing, even the childhood ones."   
Angel stared at her neck, and Buffy self-consciously put a hand up to   
deflect the gaze.   
  
"W-what?" she asked.  
  
"The scars from where I bit you. They're gone." He looked like someone   
who'd taken a wrong turn, and just realized he left his maps at home.   
  
Catching a glimpse of Spike from behind the bulky vampire man, Buffy   
saw he was totally thrown by the news. Apparently, he hadn't noticed it   
last night...and her mind narrowly escaped retreading that path while   
in front of her ex-boyfriend. One who had admitted to creating bite   
scars on her.  
  
"You bit me on the neck? As in, to drain my blood?" She couldn't keep   
the horror out of her voice.  
  
"It wasn't like that, Buffy..."  
  
"So what was it? Some sort of kinky sex thing?" Her eyes widened as   
soon as she realized what she'd said. The entire house had fallen   
silent.  
  
Angel swallowed, looked down at the floor, and replied, "It was to save   
my life. Your blood was the cure to this poison in my system..."  
  
"Which made me the life-saving snack. So my blood is, what, a vampire   
panacea? A nice little bonus to the Slayer package?"  
  
Giles cleared his throat. "It was just for that poison, as far as I've   
been able to determine. The only other property I'm aware of is that   
the Slayer's blood is a sort of a...that is, among vampires it's   
considered--"  
  
"An aphrodisiac," Spike offered, giving her a short smile.  
  
Buffy folded her arms and gave Spike her best--and only--glare. She   
knew he was only doing it to get a rise out of her, but she couldn't   
help upping the ante. "On you, it was wasted. Or maybe I'm wrong, and   
you *did* need some...assistance?"  
  
Angel stared at two of them like a spectator at a tennis match. The   
other vampire's eyes narrowed before he grinned in appreciation.   
  
"Love, as far as I'm concerned, there's nothing like it. But I can't   
speak for peaches, here." Spike looked to the vampire as if waiting   
eagerly for his response.  
  
"What's with you two?" Angel said, very confused. "Buffy already knows   
about Spike's past?"  
  
Willow was suddenly looking very guilty. "I told her."  
  
"And we just hit it off from the beginning, to boot," Spike smiled   
wickedly, enjoying every moment of Angel's discomfort.  
  
"We have...an understanding," Buffy said, suddenly feeling the need to   
stick up for their camaraderie. "We're friends, now."  
  
Thankfully, Giles hadn't been eating anything at the time, or else he   
would have choked on it. "Good Lord, Buffy. An associate, I can   
comprehend...but friends?"  
  
"Hey, I can make friends with whoever I want," she replied, trying to   
ignore the matching looks on Angel and Willow's faces. "It's not like I   
haven't made alternate lifestyle choices in the past, right?"  
  
"Yeah, but with Angel it was different, y'know?" Willow pointed out, as   
Angel continued to shuffle his feet in misery. "He might be a vampire,   
but he has a soul."  
  
"I know, you've practically beat me over the head with that point," the   
Slayer huffed, and walked into the living room to join Spike and her   
sister. "Plus all the stellar things he's done with his soul, but only   
after he met me."  
  
"Hey, I--" Angel started, then paused when he realized he didn't really   
have a counterpoint.   
  
"I don't mean to be rude, or all nasty or anything, but Angel--we were   
involved, and then we weren't. All the good times we had, if we really   
did have them...they aren't in here anymore," Buffy tapped the side of   
her head. "Nothing from the last five years is there. Nada, zip, zero.   
And I'm just starting to understand what I've lost. I'm sorry, but I   
can't be the Buffy you knew."  
  
"I'm not asking--"  
  
"I know. But I can see the 'maybe' in your eyes. 'Maybe it's   
different', or 'maybe things can change'. There aren't any guarantees,   
here. They already figured out it's not magical--or if it is, it's   
beyond them--so we're looking at the unparanormal reasons for memory   
loss. Which are usually not with the 'coming back intact' program."  
  
Angel looked to Willow, who shrugged. Giles merely polished his glasses   
and replied, "She's right. Unless this is something beyond our control,   
she likely incurred this due to her restoration, or, or because of   
something physical."  
  
"Restoration? What am I, a house?" Buffy frowned in distaste.  
  
"Tsk. Don't leave yourself open like that, pet," Spike warned with a   
smile, earning a curious look from Dawn.  
  
Buffy rolled her eyes as she realized her slip. "Right. My bad. Anyway,   
so the situation boils down to this; I'm not remembering right now,   
check back later, sorry, no rain checks."  
  
"I think that sums it up," Dawn said, speaking up for the first time.   
"But what if it comes back? The memories, I mean?"  
  
"Then I deal. But for now, Angel...if you want to stay, I won't make   
you leave. If you want to go, however, that might be for the best."  
  
"You want me to go?" He asked, sounding hurt.  
  
"Well, it doesn't matter to me. If you want to stay and catch up with   
the others, go ahead. Otherwise...it's been nice to meet you." She held   
out her hand, but he didn't move to take it. Understanding he probably   
wanted a hug like Xander did, she held her arms out in supplication.   
Angel took the hint and gave her a short hug, then nodded briefly to   
everyone before leaving.   
  
She let out a sigh, and the others watched her in amazement as she sank   
down on the couch next to Dawn and said, "Well, that wasn't too bad, I   
guess. Is there anything on tonight?"  
  
  
****  
  
  
It was many hours later before Spike left the house, waiting until the   
others were gone to spend some time with Dawn and Buffy. The little bit   
was feeling lonely and tried hard not to show it in front of her   
sister. When Buffy went to bed early, he and Dawn sat on the couch as   
she released all her fears and anxieties onto him. There wasn't much he   
could do besides listen, but in the last few months he'd become good at   
it. Dawn's concerns about Buffy echoed his, for the most part, but he   
tried to assure her that she would be all right, in time. He didn't   
promise her a full recovery, since despite his optimism in front of   
Xander, he didn't expect Buffy's constructed memories of Dawn to ever   
return.   
  
As he walked back to the crypt, he felt eyes watching him. After a   
second's deliberation, he figured out who it was, and laughed   
humorlessly.  
  
"Come on out, you wanker. Or are you afraid I'll bite?"  
  
The distinct silhouette of the dark-haired vampire emerged from the   
bushes. "Not unless you've removed that chip in your head."  
  
Spike widened his eyes in astonishment at Angel's knowledge of his   
condition, then shrugged. "I shouldn't be surprised--you always did   
have the skulking and lurking thing down pat. So, what'll it be   
tonight? Idle threats, or ass-kicking?"  
  
"Maybe a little of both," Angel smiled dangerously. "But first, I want   
to know what you've done to Buffy."  
  
"What, me? I haven't done a thing."  
  
"Cut the crap, Spike. You and Buffy are friends? You obviously haven't   
told her the truth."  
  
"Like you didn't, you mean?" Angel winced, then glowered at him. Spike   
continued on, nonplused. "Mate, those friends of hers told her about   
me. She asked for the complete profile, and I gave it to her. It was   
her idea to be friends, not mine."  
  
"And you want to be friends with her, so it'll be easier to kill her   
later when her defenses are down."  
  
Spike stared at him in disbelief. How could he know about the chip, and   
not this? "They didn't tell you?"  
  
"Tell me what?"  
  
Now the blond vampire was grinning, amused by this turn of events. "You   
don't know. No one told you."  
  
"Spike..."  
  
"Hold up, lemme enjoy the moment," Spike interrupted, and stood there   
for a couple seconds before sighing in exultation. "Okay, I'm ready   
now. First off, you're wrong. With this chip in my head, I couldn't do   
it myself. Thing is, that's not the reason. I would never harm her in a   
thousand lifetimes; I love her, you see."  
  
Speechless, Angel stared at him. Then the chuckle started, as Spike   
knew it would, and the poofter barely gasped out, "You, in love with   
Buffy? That's rich. Tell me another one."  
  
"It's true," he replied calmly, waiting for the truth to sink through   
that thick skull of his.  
  
"Spike, I'm serious."  
  
"So am I. Guess my observations about your love for the Slayer being   
perverse was a bit preemptive on my part, wasn't it?"  
  
Spike could almost see the fact dribbling into his brain, as if through   
the tiny holes of a sieve. "You love Buffy? Really love her? But that's   
impossible."  
  
"How so?"  
  
"You don't have a soul."  
  
"Oh, so you're the one who filled the Slayer's noggin with that   
nonsense. As if you know what a vampire can or can't do."  
  
"Because I am one, Spike, in case you forgot."  
  
"No, you moron, it's because you don't have humanity in you. Without   
that soul, you're the perfect vampire. Not a spot of humanity to be   
found--that's what the Judge proved, after all. Your soul is what   
allows *you* to love, yes, but that means bugger all to the rest of   
us."  
  
"What do you mean?"  
  
"I mean, Angelus, that loving someone has nothing to do with a soul.   
Not a human one, at any rate. As much as I dislike it, the sappy human   
I was is still a part of me, unlike in your case. Dru has it too, as   
well as Darla, I'd wager. You've always thought it was your soul that   
made you special, but in reality it's your lack of humanity."  
  
Angel shook his head in denial, but Spike wasn't through with him, yet.   
"You want to become human so badly, but what were you like when you   
*were* human, hmm? Pissed it all away, didn't you? You're the puffed up   
hero now, but you don't feel like you belong, not among humans or your   
own kind."  
  
"I--I've been to parties. I've been around people, talked with them,"   
Angel offered weakly.  
  
Spike narrowed his eyes. "But you loathed every minute of it."  
  
"Not loathed, exactly, it was just really uncomfortable...and I'm not   
getting your point, if you have one."  
  
The blond vampire sighed in exasperation. "I'm saying that you and I   
are not the same. You sit up there on your high and mighty Souled   
throne and look down on us, but the truth is, even with a soul...you   
don't understand people. Being the hero is easy; it's being a man   
that's hard, isn't it?   
  
"That's the thing. For me, it's the reverse. I'm not the hero, the one   
who does good for good's sake. But Xander comes to me to talk about his   
problems, then the wiccan wants me to patrol with her, plus the little   
bit leans on me and Buffy asked me to watch over her...and I do it,   
because somehow, for a short while, they see me as a man. And that's   
enough for me."  
  
Angel's mouth opened, as if to say something, then his whole   
countenance changed, turning from befuddlement to illumination. "Oh   
God. This--this can't be right. You're lying."  
  
"I'm not, but you can go ask the others if you need to. I'm sure they   
can give you the whole account. They may not trust me completely, and   
they shouldn't...but they all know I'll be there when they need me. I   
let Buffy down three months ago, but I'll be damned if it happens   
again, for any reason."  
  
The souled vampire looked at Spike in stunned, terrified awe. "I need   
to...go."  
  
"Excellent idea."  
  
Angel turned to leave, then stopped and added with a bit more presence   
of mind, "If you touch Buffy, you're dead."  
  
Spike nodded and waved the souled vampire away, already familiar with   
the boyfriend threats on Buffy's behalf, thanks to Riley. The   
distracted vampire disappeared into the night, and Spike continued on,   
shaking his head in amusement.  
  
When he realized he might have done the big poof a favor by   
enlightening him, he shuddered in horror at the idea, and made a silent   
vow to try to prevent such occurrences from happening in the future.  
  
  
****  
  
  
While Tara slept, Willow snuck into the bathroom down the hall from her   
apartment's bedroom and set up the preparations for the memory spell   
she'd put together. Tara might want her to wait, but if magic could   
restore Buffy's memories, why shouldn't she?   
  
It was hard to see Buffy walking and talking as if nothing was wrong,   
but her lack of memories were clearly upsetting her. Plus, her grieving   
for her mother had been buried somewhere under the surface, and now she   
was acting nice to Spike, while treating Angel as an afterthought. This   
wasn't the Buffy she knew.  
  
She wanted to believe things would take care of themselves, but what if   
they didn't? What if time only made things worse? And what if this   
'younger' Buffy did something that the much older and wiser Buffy would   
end up regretting? Willow liked Spike well enough, and she didn't think   
he would harm Buffy, but having her without the memories was a   
temptation Spike would be unable to resist. It was also apparent that   
what Willow had told Buffy about Spike hadn't sunken in at all. It was   
like Angel all over again, and she refused to see her friend get hurt   
when it was avoidable.  
  
Whispering softly, she chanted the spell and felt the distinct feeling   
of power flowing through her, being channeled into something greater   
and bigger than herself. As the last word left her lips, she   
anticipated the sense of completion, of power being transferred and   
controlled. But instead, the power dissipated rapidly, until it trailed   
off, incomplete.   
  
Willow frowned at the spell components, wondering if one of them wasn't   
of the quality she had thought it to be. But if that were true, the   
spell wouldn't have started out as well as it had. So, there must've   
been something on Buffy's end...  
  
The betraying squeak of the floorboards indicated that someone was   
leaving the bedroom and entering the hallway. Willow quickly swept up   
the spell components and rubbed away the traces of the spell on the   
tile floor.  
  
"Honey? Is something wrong? You haven't come back to bed for a long   
time," Tara's voice came through the wooden door.  
  
Crap--she thought Tara had been asleep. "No, no...nothing's wrong.   
Just...doing bathroom things. I'll be there in a minute."  
  
"Okay," Tara replied. Willow heard her footsteps lead back to the   
bedroom, and gave out a small sigh of relief.  
  
As Willow cleaned up, Tara stared at the bedroom door in worry. She   
could smell the herbs from out in the hall, and it worried her like   
little else had done recently. What was Willow hiding? Was it nothing?   
Should she confront her about it?   
  
The last time she'd mentioned it, Willow had gotten defensive and mad,   
and then the conversation had somehow veered onto their insecurities in   
the relationship. Things were good now, things were better--maybe it   
was nothing. Maybe Willow hadn't been casting a spell, or if she had,   
it must have been a little one.   
  
Willow came in just then and settled down next to Tara, unaware of her   
lover's anxious thoughts. Tara heard Willow's breathing even out in   
slumber, and her worry trailed off into nothing as she fell asleep.  
  



	6. Troubles

Lost and Foundering  
  
  
~**~**~  
  
Chapter Six  
  
~**~**~  
  
  
It was almost impossible to choose. Anya had been clueless about how   
many decisions she would be forced to make as a bride planning her   
wedding. Flowers, location, dresses--just the reception alone would be   
enough to scare a Yaggath demon into celibacy.   
  
And the price! This wasn't like the game of Life at all, where she   
could just spin a wheel, land on a pastel-colored square, and she would   
have $20,000 to spend on a lavish wedding. The money had to come from   
somewhere, and tradition said it fell on the bride's parents--or in   
lieu of that, the bride herself--to pay for it.   
  
"Agh! What an archaic system," Anya complained to no one in particular,   
but to Giles' regret, he fell within the sound of her voice and thereby   
felt obligated to respond.  
  
"What are you going on about now, or should I even ask?"  
  
"It's this wedding ritual hoopla, Giles. Why does the bride have to   
pay? I mean, the guy buys the dinners, pays for the movies and the   
ring--why can't he shell out for the ceremony as well?"  
  
"I suppose it's pointless to argue this with you, but the man doesn't   
have to pay for everything, you know. In these more enlightened times,   
women have been known to split the cost of a date."  
  
Anya looked at him like he'd grown a second head, which in Sunnydale   
was entirely possible. "Great. I should've known you'd be unsympathetic   
to my dilemma."  
  
Giles sighed and forged on ahead, despite the voice in his head that   
clearly told him he was insane for doing so. "You're having trouble   
funding the cost of the wedding?"  
  
"Not just that. It's all these choices I have to make. Do I have   
ushers, or not? What colors should I have? Should I have an afternoon   
wedding with a cake and punch reception, or do it in the evening and   
have a dinner reception? And who should I invite?"  
  
"Anya, you only know six people, seven if you count Spike. I think it   
would be fairly obvious."  
  
"I know, but how am I supposed to get a lot of gifts if I don't invite   
a lot of people?"  
  
Giles shook his head in a mix of amusement and despair. "If you have   
only a set amount of money you can spend, I recommend you start with a   
budget and go from there. If you can't have certain things, then you'll   
have to make do."  
  
"I don't want to make do," Anya pouted. "I want a wedding that'll make   
everyone jealous and wish they were me."  
  
The door to the Magic Box opened and in came Buffy and Dawn, who were   
talking animatedly about something as they headed in their direction.   
Giles whispered thanks to whatever power was listening, and beat a   
hasty retreat over to where a pot of tea waited for him.  
  
"Hey, what's up?" Buffy asked, swinging her arms and looking generally   
happy.   
  
"I've been trying to plan my wedding, but Giles is no help. He thinks I   
should have a budget and 'make do'."  
  
Dawn smiled crookedly and crossed her arms. "Giles, what were you   
thinking?"  
  
"I haven't the foggiest, honestly," he muttered as he sipped his tea.  
  
Anya pulled out a thick bridal magazine, already heavily thumbed   
through and with several page corners folded down as place markers.   
"Buffy, you weren't here to help pick out the bridesmaid dress, so if   
you don't like it...well, that's too bad. Here we go," she opened it to   
the right page and displayed the choice to the waiting Slayer, who   
frowned in dismay.  
  
"It's...peach."  
  
"Well, I haven't decided which color it's going to be. There are five   
other colors...see? Wine, Fuchsia, Periwinkle, Moss, and Sunburst."  
  
Buffy winced at the sample of Sunburst on the following page. "It has a   
butt bow. And a poofy skirt."  
  
"Butt bows are traditional. It'll make your butt look big in comparison   
to mine, and you know that the bridesmaids always have to make the   
bride look good."  
  
Dawn's eyebrows raised at that comment. "Where does it say that, Anya?"  
  
"Right here, under the price listings."  
  
Buffy and Dawn squinted as they read, then pulled back. "Oh wow, it   
really does say that," Buffy replied.  
  
Anya smiled cheerfully. "So, what do you think about Fuchsia?"  
  
  
****  
  
  
Giles insisted on training in the room in the back, and Buffy obliged   
him. She would've preferred Spike to be there with her, but since the   
sun was still up, there wasn't any way he could show up without risking   
his unlife. Dawn left shortly after Buffy starting practicing, off to   
her friend's house for the day, and promising to be home before the sun   
set.  
  
Spike had been right about one thing the night before--the body   
remembered what the mind did not. Her Watcher was impressed at her   
remaining agility and skill, even if she had forgotten how to use it   
effectively.  
  
The former boyfriend vampire guy was nowhere to be found, which was a   
big relief. In retrospect, it hadn't gone as well as she'd hoped;   
however, she didn't know what else she could have said. He seemed nice   
enough, on the surface. However, if it was true he was cursed with a   
soul that could go away whenever he became really and truly, perfectly   
happy...how could she have a life with someone like that? Waiting for   
the day when the love of your life turns evil was not something she   
wanted.   
  
Which somehow lead her back to Spike--not a totally bad thing, in of   
itself. His chances of recidivism were lower than Angel's, with the   
chip in his head and all. Her friends liked him or tolerated him, her   
sister treated him like the big brother she never had, and   
Buffy...well, she liked him, too. Seeing how he was with Dawn had been   
the clincher. Not only had he bonded with her younger sister, he had   
stayed to protect her, according to her friends. If it had been all   
about Buffy, Spike should have left town when she died.  
  
He hadn't, though. And not only that, but he'd also become closer to   
her small group of friends, even if they didn't want to admit it. She   
thought it was rather odd that they had to keep reminding her he was   
soulless, as if they did it to remind themselves, as well.   
  
"Buffy, you're dropping your right shoulder," Giles scolded, and she   
paused. Hadn't she heard that before? It sounded familiar...  
  
She shook the thought aside, and chalked it up to déjà vu. It hadn't   
felt like a memory, just a sense of been there, done that. She focused   
on correcting the mistake, and was rewarded with a grin from Giles.  
  
"Excellent. Much better. You need to keep from doing that, because it   
telegraphs your punch. It's better not to give the opponent   
foreknowledge of what you're doing next."  
  
"Gotcha," she replied, and took a deep breath. Wow, this workout really   
had tired her out. "Could we take a break? My punching arm's losing its   
punchability. Along with all the other fighty parts."  
  
"Hmm? Oh yes, let's take a few minutes, by all means," he answered, and   
sagged into a nearby couch. Buffy was tempted to join him, but she felt   
like going outside the training room for a little while. He made no   
comment as she wandered into the shop area and sat down at the table,   
eyeing the people as they browsed the magic items for sale.  
  
Despite her best efforts, she still felt disconnected to everything   
around her. At first, she had assumed it was part of the whole upheaval   
of her life, but with things beginning to settle down, she continued to   
feel like an alien inside her own skin. She desperately wanted to know   
more, hoping that it would make the oddness go away, but it rarely   
helped. In fact, it only illuminated the gulf between her present state   
and the way things used to be.  
  
From what Giles had been telling her, she was likely to die again in   
the next few years, if not earlier. Slayers didn't live long, and   
regardless of her trip back from the beyond, it looked to be a   
trustworthy fact. At least her mom wasn't alive to see her daughter   
die.  
  
Buffy blinked away sudden tears, forbidding them to fall. Especially   
not here, and not now. There would be time for crying at home, in her   
bedroom, with the door closed and the pillow handy for muffling the   
sounds of her grief.   
  
She rested her head on her arms, tired not just from the fighting but   
the emotional turmoil as well, and unknowingly fell into the oblivion   
of slumber.  
  
  
****  
  
  
Once the sun had set, Spike set out for the magic shop, expecting Buffy   
to be there. Knowing the Watcher, he'd probably started her right into   
training. No rest for the weary, or the formerly dead.  
  
He meandered in, glancing at the magical knickknacks on his way through   
the foyer and into the bulk of the shop. The sight of Buffy asleep as   
she sat at the table softened his gaze, and he watched her for an   
indulgent handful of seconds before coming closer.   
  
"She's asleep," Anya whispered helpfully from behind the counter, and   
he gave her a look to let her know he wasn't blind nor stupid.  
  
He didn't want to wake her, not when she looked so peaceful and   
unguarded and, well, beautiful. A stray tendril of hair was draped   
across her face, and he gently tucked it away, not caring if the ex-  
demon was watching. Buffy shifted slightly, as if aware of his   
presence, and against his better judgement he sat down near her at the   
table, taking advantage of the tranquil moment.  
  
After a few more seconds, she stirred and awoke, her eyes fixing   
straight on him as she gathered her senses. Then she smiled lazily, in   
such a way that he instantly forgot they weren't alone and sitting in a   
public place.   
  
"Hey, what're you doing here?" Buffy asked with a growing sense of her   
surroundings. "Aren't you--wait a minute. It's dark outside."  
  
"That it is," Spike remarked breezily, amused at her disorientation.  
  
"Oh crap. What time is it?" She was now in full tilt alarm, sitting   
straight up and looking for a clock.  
  
"It's after seven, love."  
  
"Seven?? I've been asleep for...four hours?" Buffy fixed her sights on   
Anya. "Why didn't you wake me up?"  
  
"Giles said to let you rest. The fact that you fell asleep on *that*   
table shows how wiped out you were," Anya replied, mollifying the   
Slayer. "The rest of the gang should be here shortly, so you timed your   
nap fairly well, all things considered. Giles left a couple hours   
ago...he wanted to get cleaned up and ready for tonight."  
  
"While I'll continue to be all grody and disgusting," Buffy remarked   
sourly, just realizing her post-training condition.  
  
"Well, you don't live too far from here, and I'm sure your pals will   
wait for you if you're late," Spike mentioned to her as a way to help.  
  
"And I'd better make sure Dawn is home," she replied, sounding so much   
like the Buffy he knew that he nearly said it out loud. "Spike, would   
you like to come with? I doubt I'll run into any baddies on the way   
there and back, but I'm not feeling too sure about my own skills at the   
moment."  
  
He caught Anya's startled glance at him, and suppressed a strong urge   
to smirk in response. "Yeah, of course. Let's go."  
  
  
****  
  
  
The gang noticed Buffy's absence when they arrived, and Anya informed   
each one as they came in that Buffy and Spike had left to go to her   
house, so they could check up on Dawn and so Buffy could take a shower.  
  
Each member took the news differently. Tara looked thoughtful, yet   
worried; Xander's eyes bugged out in an unflattering way, then muttered   
something about horrible images of Buffy, Spike and a shower; Willow   
was quickly troubled, and openly fretted about what was going on   
between the former enemies. Xander took her side, while Anya was a bit   
confused about the whole thing and Tara kept silent.   
  
Giles came in while they talked, and soon he was up to speed on the   
Buffy-closeness-with-Spike issue. "Dear Lord. Haven't we been down this   
road once already?"  
  
"Twice," Xander corrected him, squirming slightly. "And might I add,   
not a road I want to travel down a third time."  
  
"But we don't know there's been any...um, overt closeness, do we?" Tara   
asked. "Like of a romantic kind?"  
  
"Well, no...they've just been really friendly. Buffy's in a vulnerable   
stage right now, though. She doesn't know Spike like we do, like she   
used to," Willow replied. "I don't want to see her get hurt because we   
didn't say something."  
  
"She might not remember, but she's still Buffy. If she can like Spike   
now, then maybe she would like him regardless of what she knew of him,"   
Tara offered meekly. "I mean, right before she died...she was being   
nicer to him, and everything."  
  
Giles cleared his throat, then said, "True, but I'm concerned that   
Buffy won't be as wary and cautious, without knowing who and what Spike   
truly is."  
  
The door opened, and Buffy came in with Spike, looking happy and   
content in a rare moment. "Hey, gang's all here. Sorry about being   
late. I was--"  
  
"We know. Anya told us," Willow said, her tone deceptively light.   
"Spike's here, too. Hi Spike."  
  
He gave her a curious look, knowing something was definitely not right.   
"Look, why don't I take leave of you all, let you have some time   
to...do whatever you had planned, eh?"  
  
"Wait--then who's gonna walk me home?" Buffy asked, and the room fell   
silent. It seemed their worst fears were already coming to pass.  
  
"Buffy, one of us can take you home. It's no problem." Xander smiled,   
but she wasn't mollified.  
  
"You don't mean walking, right? You mean driving me home?"  
  
"Well..." he trailed off, not really understanding the difference.   
"What does it matter?"  
  
Giles realized what she meant, however, and regretted not seeing it   
earlier. "She means that it's not safe for her to go out at night,   
unless someone's there to protect her. If the demons and vampires in   
Sunnydale find out that she's back..."  
  
He didn't need to finish. Spike nodded, his own understanding of the   
group's behavior beginning to take form. "Yeah, that's pretty much in a   
nutshell. Don't worry, ol' Spike hasn't been taking moonlit strolls   
with your Slayer. She's not in fighting trim yet, that's for sure."  
  
"And how would you know that, Spike?" Giles asked, his voice taking on   
a hint of deadly curiosity.  
  
"I just--you know, it's funny..." He stopped when he felt Buffy's hand   
on his arm.  
  
"It's all right. I'll tell them--they might as well know." She preceded   
to relate the entire story of what happened in the cemetery, which   
didn't thrill her friends in the least.   
  
"And then you went home, right?" Anya asked.  
  
"Well, we talked for awhile--Spike told me about everything in his   
past, all the bad stuff, and some of the recent stuff as well." They   
looked at her and Spike skeptically, and she added, "No, really. He   
told me the truth."  
  
"Oh yeah? And what did he say about why you deinvited him from your   
house?" Xander queried.  
  
"It was because he told me he was in love with me, and I assumed it was   
an obsession and something very not of the good. I didn't want him in   
my house, especially after the whole Drusilla returning and chaining up   
thing. I could go into further detail on that if you want...?"  
  
"Um, no, that's okay. It sounds pretty accurate," Xander replied with a   
nervous smile on his face. "Not that I knew much before. Uh, not that I   
wanted to, of course."  
  
"Spike," Willow cut in, her tone filled with disapproval of his   
naughtiness. True, he apparently hadn't glossed over the truth with   
her, but this still didn't bode well. "What did I tell you a couple   
days ago?"  
  
He frowned at her, until comprehension dawned on him. "Oh."  
  
"I'm gonna have a talk with you later, mister," she replied in the same   
tone, and was rewarded with the sight of the vampire looking penitent.  
  
Tara shifted in her seat nervously, and asked, "Um, shouldn't we be   
having a meeting?"  
  
"Yes, quite right, Tara. Everyone, have a seat. Spike, if you want to   
stay, well...you will, I guess," Giles added, not quite believing the   
whole situation.  
  
Spike flashed a wicked grin, then settled down at the table. Unknown to   
Giles, he'd been at several of these gatherings, and had no intention   
of leaving when it was clear that he was still welcome. Buffy joined   
him, and soon Xander began by revealing last night's patrolling fun,   
with noticeably less vampires. Word must have spread about Buffy being   
back, which was both a blessing and a curse; it meant that quantity   
would soon be replaced by quality, something Buffy was in no condition   
to face.  
  
Plans were formed, schedules made, and there was a general relief that   
no major problems seemed to be cropping up; for a meeting, it was   
rather productive. The patrolling for the night was left to Willow and   
Spike, so they both walked Buffy home afterwards and headed straight   
for the cemetery.  
  
Spike knew the tongue-lashing was coming, so it was no surprise that   
shortly after passing through the gate, he heard Willow call his name   
from behind him.  
  
He winced, then turned around to face her. "Yeah, Will?"  
  
"Did you really tell her everything? *Everything*, everything?"  
  
He contemplated the redheaded slip of a girl, wringing her hands   
anxiously, and decided it was safer to be honest. "Actually, that and   
more. Well, it was stuff she didn't know before, at any rate. You don't   
need to worry--she knows all about yours truly, now. What I can't   
figure is why she's still tolerating me. She even wants to be friends."  
  
"Really?"  
  
"Oh, yeah. Baffling, isn't it? But when her memories come back, that'll   
be the end of it," he said matter-of-factly, with no small amount of   
sadness underneath. "I know you probably won't believe me when I say   
this, but I really don't want Buffy being all pleasant to me because   
she's got amnesia. Doesn't mean I don't appreciate it, but...it's not   
the same."  
  
"I know how you feel. I want Buffy back--our Buffy. I mean, she is our   
Buffy, but she doesn't remember being in high school, or being a   
Slayer..."  
  
"Or you," Spike added knowingly.  
  
Willow swallowed. "It's hard. I feel like I've lost my best friend   
twice. I know it's not the end of the world, but still...it's not the   
same."  
  
They walked in silence for a time, listening for the approach of a   
vampire or demon looking for some action. When none appeared, Spike   
attempted to bring the stalled conversation into an area he knew the   
witch wouldn't like.  
  
"Will, what if Buffy...what would you do if Buffy got her memories   
back, and she still acted the way she does now? Like with me, for   
instance?"  
  
It was a tenuous and unrealistic hope he held in his undead heart, but   
the notion had been fanned into a small flame thanks to Buffy's   
continuing behavior. For some reason, he wanted Willow's reassurance   
that she wouldn't interfere if Buffy--by some unfathomable miracle--  
still wanted to be around him.  
  
The young woman squinted in thought, trying to envision such a   
scenario, no doubt. "I don't know. I guess, if she's doing it with   
everything back in its rightful place...it would be her business, not   
mine. But you're not thinking--"  
  
"No, not thinking, exactly. Supposing, or maybe hoping is the better   
word," Spike answered, then cursed himself inwardly for revealing that   
fact to the Slayer's best friend. "Hope is all it is, though. I know   
that."  
  
"Good. I wouldn't want to have to take you on if you tried anything   
inappropriate."   
  
Spike smiled weakly, thankful that the girl couldn't read minds. Or   
could she? Willow appeared oblivious to his sudden panic, but continued   
with a knowing tone, "I don't have to worry about that, now do I?"  
  
"No worries about me, Will. I'll be a perfect gentleman."  
  
She grinned with an innocence he almost believed. "Great! Well, it   
doesn't look like there's a lot of action going on tonight, so I think   
I'll be heading home. You'll lock up the cemetery after me, won't you?"  
  
"Yeah, no problem."   
  
The young witch headed back towards the entrance, her posture showing   
the confidence she'd recently acquired. The backbone she'd displayed   
months ago had taken him completely by surprise, but not in a bad way.   
He respected her, and in some corner of his mind, he was glad Buffy had   
such a devoted friend. Lord knew he'd had no one half as constant when   
he'd been human.  
  
He grimaced sourly, unwilling to dredge up bitter memories. It didn't   
seem like much had changed, even after a hundred and score years. Here   
he was, friendless save for a Slayer who didn't know any better, her   
younger sister who *did* know better and ignored common sense, and a   
group of people who seemed to tolerate him, more often than not. He was   
waiting for them all to wise up and stake him, or even worse, force him   
out of town and out of their lives. It was a fate he couldn't bring   
himself to contemplate.  
  
With a sigh, he took another circle around the graveyard as he'd   
promised Will he would do. To his regret, he found no sign of any   
demons and went back to his crypt, noticing not for the first time the   
echoes resounding off the walls of stone. Empty and lonely echoes.  
  
He grabbed a bottle of vodka from the chest, untouched for weeks, and   
regarded for a moment. Then he placed it back in the chest and closed   
the lid, deciding that for tonight, he wouldn't drown his sorrows with   
drink. Instead, he flipped on the telly and delved into the fictional   
lives of perfect people who, he could imagine for just a while, were   
people who liked him and wanted to be in his presence.  
  
  
****  
  
  
It was strange, Willow noted as she walked up the steps of the Summers'   
home the next morning. Two--or was it three?--days ago, she was doing   
this exact same thing, leaving her apartment to meet up with Tara. Only   
now, Buffy was alive again by some miracle. It was weirdly wonderful   
and strangely correct. After all, why *wouldn't* Buffy be in her house?   
The last three months felt like a horrible nightmare from which she'd   
been allowed to awaken. However, there was one bitter aftertaste to   
deal with...one Willow hoped she could rectify soon.  
  
The spell apparently hadn't worked, which only surprised her because   
she thought she was finally over that phase. It had to be the   
ingredients. Well, at least nothing bad had happened afterwards, like   
with the others.  
  
She rang the doorbell, and Tara answered it with a confused look on her   
face. "Willow? W-what's up? Do you need to talk to Buffy?"  
  
Willow frowned. "No, silly. I came to see you. I thought since we   
didn't spend our spell time together earlier, we could do something   
today before my shift starts."  
  
"Oh," Tara replied, suddenly looking penitent. "I, um, I went ahead and   
make plans. With my wiccan friends...we were going to go into L.A. for   
some charm shopping."  
  
"Without me?" Willow asked weakly, hurt.  
  
"Honey, I'm so sorry. I-I thought you'd want to spend time with Buffy.   
You know, continue with the catching up?"  
  
Willow walked into the living room and sat down on the couch. "Well,   
yeah, I can do that, but it doesn't mean anything to her, not like it   
does to me. Why can't I just cast a spell on her to make her remember?   
Poof, and she's back!"  
  
Tara's eyes flashed, "Willow, you have to let her recall things   
naturally. Not everything can be fixed with a spell."  
  
"Oh, right, I forgot. Wiccans don't mess with nature. Except for the   
times when they do."  
  
A horn honked outside, and Tara looked from her to the window. "They're   
here. Look, I don't have time to go into this. You know I'm only   
concerned about you..."  
  
"No, it's okay," Willow put on a sunny smile, hiding her   
disappointment. "Go. Have some shopping fun."  
  
Tara gave her a hug and kiss, then grabbed her bag and went out the   
door with a wave and a vaguely concerned look on her face. Willow waved   
back as if nothing was wrong, and watched as her lover left.  
  
Footsteps broke the silence, and Willow looked around to see Buffy   
standing there, rubbing her temple. "Did Tara leave already?"  
  
"Yeah, just now. I didn't know she was going out."  
  
Buffy didn't catch the somberness of her tone as she closed her eyes in   
pain. "Well, neither did she until last night. It was kinda last   
minute. Did you...come over to see her?"  
  
"Originally, that was the plan. But plans are made to be broken, so   
let's forge ourselves some new ones out of the shards of the last one,   
okay? Speaking of okay, are you...?"  
  
"Nah, I'm fine. Just a little headache. I took something for it   
already," she replied as a dismissal, then shrugged. "So, I'm ready to   
be enlightened some more. Ooh--maybe we could do a trance, like   
hypnosis? I've heard that works on people with amnesia."  
  
Willow stared, then gradually smiled as a thought came to her. "Yeah, a   
trance. But not hypnosis. I know something even better than that..."  
  
  
****  
  
  
It was quiet downstairs, which unnerved Dawn to the point of leaving   
her room and checking out the lack of activity. Through her sleep-  
induced haze, she'd heard Tara leave, but Buffy and Willow were still   
downstairs...weren't they?  
  
She found them sitting in the living room. Willow had moved a chair   
around so that she was facing the couch, opposite Buffy. Both had their   
eyes closed, and looked as if they'd fallen asleep while sitting up.  
  
Dawn reached over to shake Willow, when she noticed the note on the   
table, sitting near one of three lit candles. Seeing that it was folded   
over and had her name written in large letters, she carefully picked it   
up and read the contents.  
  
"Dawn,  
  
I'm sorry I didn't do this in person, but we figured that we'd let   
you sleep in, in case this doesn't take very long. At least, I hope it   
doesn't. All we're doing is a spell like the one I did to bring Buffy   
out of that catatonic state she was in. I think I can find her   
memories, if they're still in there. My watch says 9:12 a.m., so in a   
few minutes we'll be starting the trance. If something goes wrong, or   
if this lasts longer than three hours, call Giles.  
  
See you soon, Willow"  
  
  
Tearing her eyes away from the paper, she looked at the clock hanging   
on the wall--it was 9:44, which meant they'd been like this for a half   
hour, at most. Should she call Giles, anyway? Willow said to do it only   
if something went wrong, or after three hours...but what if something   
*did* happen, and it wasn't something that could wait for Giles to   
arrive?  
  
She shuffled nervously, not sure what to do. Maybe she could wait a   
full hour, then call Giles. Anya said that's how long it had taken   
before, so if they didn't come out of it by then, well, then she would   
call him.   
  
In the end, she couldn't wait that long. Sometime just past 10 o'clock,   
she went into the kitchen and called the Magic Box, hoping he was   
there. He wasn't, but Anya gave her the phone number of the hotel room   
where he was staying, with a warning about how he was still trying to   
sleep off a case of jet lag.   
  
His room phone rang five times before he finally picked up. "This had   
bloody better be good," Giles replied darkly.  
  
"Giles? I need your help. It's Willow and Buffy. She told me not to   
call you unless something went wrong, but I don't know what to do and   
there's no one else I can ask--"  
  
"Dawn! Slow down, take a deep breath." She did as told, then Giles   
continued, "Now, what's this about Willow and Buffy?"  
  



	7. Nexus

Lost and Foundering  
  
  
~**~**~  
  
Chapter Seven  
  
~**~**~  
  
  
Whatever experience Willow had in Buffy's mind previously, it did not   
reoccur here. In fact, the two events were as separate as they could   
be.  
  
First off, Willow didn't expect the time and effort it took just to   
find the memory center of Buffy's brain. Since her mind had been in a   
loop before, there wasn't any way she could get lost. Here, it was a   
different story altogether. It was only after she hit upon the idea of   
finding a stray memory of hers, and tracking it to its source, that she   
found what she'd been searching for.  
  
The area was dark and cave-like, filled with nebulous strands of blue-  
silver light that dangled from one surface and drifted, unattached on   
the other end, reminding Willow of the sway of sea anemones in the   
ocean current. Curious, she reached out and touched one of the strands,   
and the jolt of a memory that wasn't hers filled her consciousness...  
  
...Playing in the sandbox with unknown children, and complaining about   
the lack of shovels to go around...  
  
Her hand pulled away, and the memory faded. She followed it to the end,   
which looked almost as if it had been cut perfectly across. Where did   
this end go? Did it connect to the surface, or to another strand?   
Testing out a method, Willow took the end and touched it to the wall   
surface. Gradually, the light bled into the dark, attaching itself as   
if coming back from a long journey away.  
  
Willow smiled in triumph, but that smile faded as she regarded the   
hundreds--no, thousands--of strands left to be reattached.   
  
"One down, many *many* more to go," she sighed, and reached for the   
next tendril of memory.  
  
  
****  
  
  
When Giles, he appraised the situation with the keenest of attention,   
then did what he did best; he fretted.  
  
"Why did that fool girl go and try something like this, without at   
least consulting someone else?"  
  
"Well, she did it before without telling anyone," Dawn tried, but he   
was not in a mood to be soothed.  
  
"Which was *not* the wisest thing she could have done. Yes, it worked   
in the end, but that was a desperate situation. This wasn't desperate,   
or even urgent. She's risking her life, and Buffy's, unnecessarily."  
  
Dawn looked back to the unmoving pair, then back to Giles. "What do you   
mean? This isn't safe?"  
  
Giles took off his glasses and rubbed his eyes. "When Buffy was   
comatose, the threat wasn't as dire. Most of her brain functions had   
been funneled into a loop. If Willow had been weaker, she might have   
been trapped in that loop. In this case there is no loop, and she could   
very well get lost if she doesn't focus on what she's doing."  
  
"Can't we just, y'know, shake her so she wakes up?"  
  
"Without knowing where she is in Buffy's brain, or what she's doing? I   
wouldn't advise it. I would consider it as our last option, if all else   
fails."  
  
Dawn sighed and looked at the clock. It had been an hour. How many more   
would go by before they came back?  
  
As if Giles could read her thoughts, he said, "They could be like this   
for hours, Dawn. If you have somewhere to be, I can stay with them."  
  
"No, that's okay. I was wondering...when is it too long? For the   
trance, I mean?"  
  
Giles grimaced. "It's hard to say. I can't even guess at Willow's   
strength, and it might three or four hours before they emerge. She   
won't leave until she's managed to accomplish her goal, or made sure   
every effort has been tried." He laid a comforting hand on Dawn's   
shoulder. "Willow will do everything in her power to restore Buffy's   
memory. If she's continued to grow in her abilities since I left, then   
I have few doubts she'll come back empty-handed."  
  
Somehow, that didn't comfort Dawn as much as she would've liked.   
  
  
****  
  
  
For every fifty Willow reconnected, it felt like a hundred more   
appeared. She knew it didn't work that way, that there had to be an end   
to the number of strands, but at the moment it didn't feel like it. And   
it didn't look like it, either.  
  
Ever so often, she caught a glimpse of some sort of light, hazy and   
indistinct. It would weave through the strands as if trying to figure   
out what to do, then disappear. After a while it would reappear and do   
it all over again, as if caught in a never-ending loop. With time, she   
learned to ignore it and continue on, since it appear to be either   
helping or hurting. And as she progressed, the jolt of a foreign memory   
unnerved her less and less. Soon, she learned how to ignore it as well,   
letting the memories wash over her without truly absorbing it.   
  
There were times where she couldn't help taking a peek, though. Buffy   
had memories of things she'd never experienced, and curiosity took hold   
of her. It was strange to see different memories of events they'd   
shared. Conversations were slightly altered, outcomes shifted, but to   
Willow's surprise, in the end very little had changed. In an odd way,   
it was a comfort to know things hadn't been heavily tweaked...aside   
from the insertion of a younger sister, of course.  
  
However, when she peeked into a moment of happiness she shouldn't have,   
she instantly swore off her voyeuristic tendencies and ended up   
blushing every time she ran across a memory containing Angel.  
  
In the process of her task, Willow had no concept of time, only the   
goal of restoring her friend's remembrance of the past. Fatigue wore   
her down bit by bit, miniscule at first, then it became noticeable as   
her work continued. It didn't deter her--she figured this would happen,   
eventually. The important thing was to make sure she finished before   
she became too tired out to withdraw from Buffy's mind.   
  
The temporary worry drifted away as she consumed herself in her task,   
forgetting her concerns as her friend took first priority.  
  
  
****  
  
  
Three hours passed, then four, then five. Worry became a quaint term as   
both Dawn and Giles felt the tendrils of fear grip them with every   
passing minute. Absolutely nothing had happened, and Giles almost   
wished something would happen--even if it was bad--just so he could do   
something other than watch.  
  
He laughed inwardly at the thought. Rupert Giles, a Watcher by trade,   
who desperately wanted to do anything but. It would be pathetic if it   
wasn't so funny.  
  
Buffy's sister was up in her room, no longer able to wait patiently in   
the living room. Seeing her distress, he had given her permission to   
leave Buffy and Willow's side for a while, assuring her that he would   
call for her if anything occurred. She'd smiled in gratitude, and as   
she had climbed the stairs, the nostalgia of a weary adulthood made him   
miss the freedom from responsibility that came with youth. If only   
someone could tell him things would be all right, in the end...  
  
A soft groan came from Willow, and his whole attention came awake and   
focused on the young witch, all senses searching for signs of seizure,   
the typical result of fatigue of this sort.   
  
"Dawn!" He called out, and immediately the door opened and he could   
hear her hurried footsteps coming closer. Willow hadn't done or said   
anything more, but he couldn't take the chance of dropping his guard   
now. Not if he hoped to make sure the two girls came out of this alive.  
  
  
****  
  
  
It was getting hard to focus, Willow realized as she attached another   
strand to the wall. There were only a few ones left, and thankfully not   
all the strands in this chamber had been disconnected. She was   
intensely curious to find out which ones they were, but after her   
debacle with the Angel memory, she thought it best to leave it alone.  
  
All of those remaining were of the last few days before the fight with   
Glory, unpleasant memories that Willow didn't relish going through   
again. Still, it was interesting to learn how Buffy and Spike had   
gotten the RV, and a smile rose unbidden on her face when she noted   
that the Thompsons' had involuntarily helped Buffy out of a sticky   
situation twice. Good thing she'd told Buffy to leave cash in place of   
the note, when she'd gone back to return the clothes.  
  
Lethargically, she reconnected the remaining ones, until only two were   
left. Her mind distantly wondered what they could be, and in a move she   
wouldn't have done if she hadn't been so tired, grabbed both at the   
same time.  
  
Both memories fought for dominance, and she pushed against the   
intrusion into her mind. Fear seized her as she only now realized what   
one of the memories contained. Willow placed the strand against the   
wall, but it was too late.   
  
Her body was falling, but it was Buffy's body, heading into the blue-  
white ball of energy that was the portal. And then she stopped in the   
portal's grip, pain lacing intricate patterns throughout her body,   
causing muscles to spasm and convulse.  
  
  
****  
  
  
Willow's scream made Dawn and Giles jump, and they ran to her side as   
she began to writhe, as if in a seizure. Giles's expression darkened   
and he held on to Willow's arm as he prepared himself enter into the   
same sort of trance, intent on bringing her out despite the enormous   
risk to himself.  
  
Then the spasms tapered off into nothing, and Willow sagged in the   
chair, still unconscious.   
  
"Giles, what happened? Is she okay?"  
  
"I-I think so," he replied, wiping his brow with a shaking hand.   
Whatever had happened, it wasn't the result of fatigue. Willow's heart   
continued to beat, and she was still immersed in the spell.   
  
Then he added softly, "God, I wish I knew what was happening."  
  
  
****  
  
  
The memory faded, leaving Willow exhausted from the experience. With   
the ordeal over, the other memory slipped in as she weakly moved the   
strand into position against the wall, and watched as it absorbed into   
the wall, attaching itself with a certain resoluteness. The last memory   
overtook Willow's mind, and she let this one wash over her, unable to   
stop it and curious to know what else remained.  
  
  
  
...Buffy found herself floating. The whiteness of her surroundings   
should have blinded her, but instead she was able to look around   
without the mildest squint, amazed and unafraid. Doors stood around her   
in retreating circles in the white nothing, all looking as if they had   
been there for ages. All were different in shape, and made of various   
materials--the ones of precious metals, wood, and bone she could easily   
identify. The others, she wasn't sure she wanted to find out.   
  
"Which one should I try? Door number one, door number two, or door   
number twenty-five...?" She asked out loud, not expecting an answer.   
She got one, anyway.   
  
*These doors are not for you, Slayer.*  
  
Buffy waited for the echoes to recede. "Would the mystery voice please   
identify yourself? Or do I have to do another game show reference,   
here?"  
  
*We are what We are. We have been since the beginning of Time. We will   
continue to be even when stars have faded to nothingness.*  
  
"Pretentious much? Unless, of course, you're the Powers That...oh."  
  
*We see that you still have the trappings of your mortal self. In time,   
this will pass.*  
  
Buffy circled around, still unable to spot anyone, not even a tall   
curtain with suspicious movement coming from behind. "O-kay. I get it.   
I'm dead. Took me awhile, but I can't say I'm surprised. I guess I   
kinda thought the afterlife would be a little more..." she searched the   
bareness of the white infinity, "...accessorized?"  
  
*This is only a transition point. The nature of your death was   
atypical--your essence, or soul, was divided among several realities.   
Realities that these doors represent. We collected those pieces and   
reformed them here, at the Nexus.*  
  
Meaning her world was behind one of these doors. Buffy looked down at   
herself, nonplused at finding a solid body instead of an ethereal one.   
"So, what's with the body? It's not real, is it?"  
  
*Reality is subjective. Here, it is real. Elsewhere, it would be   
intangible.* If Buffy didn't know better, she'd think the Voice was   
getting a bit exasperated. *Now that you are whole, you are ready to   
continue your journey.*  
  
"Journey? And I didn't even bring my toothbrush," Buffy quipped.  
  
The pause was infinitesimal, but she visualized an elderly man in white   
robes pinching the bridge of his nose, much as Giles would do. *It's   
time. Just walk through the doorway behind you, and you will be   
transported to your final destination.*  
  
She spun to find an oval of swirling color behind her, opalescent on   
its surface. "Could...could I see my friends and my sister before I go?   
Just one last time?"  
  
*They are not of your concern...*  
  
"The hell they aren't! Oh, um, sorry," she wrung her hands, distraught.   
"It's just...I sacrificed myself to save them all, and it would give me   
a lot of peace of mind, er, soul, to know they're fine. Please?"  
  
Another pause, and the Voice replied, *You may have one last look, by   
Our divine benevolence.* A paneled door made of some dark wood opened   
to her left, and she walked over to view what was beyond.  
  
The views kept changing, shifting...subdivisions and cities flashed   
before her, then farmland and mountainous terrain, then back to   
civilization in a random fashion. Slowly, the flashes became more   
specific--Buffy recognized Los Angeles, then the outskirts of   
Sunnydale, and then she was seeing her house at dusk, looking alone and   
bereft in the last gasps of day.   
  
*The stream of Time is different at the Nexus than elsewhere, and it   
has continued to flow while We were reconstructing your soul. The time   
you are seeing is later than when you left your realm.*  
  
"How long?"  
  
*Fourteen of your realm's days have passed.*  
  
Two weeks. Buffy closed her eyes, hoping that she was strong enough to   
see the aftermath of her death. "Show me my sister."  
  
The view changed, and now Buffy was seeing the insides of her sister's   
room. Dawn was on her bed, staring up at the ceiling with a faraway   
dead look in her eyes. The sight sent shivers down Buffy's back.   
  
"Show me my friend Giles," she asked thickly, and the picture changed   
again to show her house's family room. He sat on the couch with a   
similar look in his eyes, but she couldn't hear what he was saying to   
Willow and Tara. They stood side by side facing him, their faces   
conveying shock.  
  
"Turn up the volume, would ya?"  
  
*You asked for visual confirmation, not auditory.*  
  
"Well, I'm asking *now*, okay? Please?"  
  
After a moment, Giles' words came filtering in, sounding a million   
miles away. "...they still haven't turned up any leads on his   
whereabouts. I'm afraid they won't, either."  
  
"But Giles, how could he do this? He's her father, for crying out   
loud," Willow said, her own expression bleak despite the anger in her   
voice.  
  
"Well, he had no reason to believe anything would go wrong, let alone   
that Joyce and Buffy would die--it's not a defense of the poncy bugger,   
though, I assure you. But as far as we know, he has no idea what's   
happened. I have to say, his timing couldn't have been worse."  
  
Tara nodded in sad agreement. "The company didn't say how much money he   
stole, did they?"  
  
"No, but Angel seems to think it was around a million dollars--whatever   
his pension with the company would have been if they hadn't laid him   
off. He apparently felt he was justified in taking the money."  
  
Buffy's heart sank. Her father had stole money, then skipped the   
country? No wonder the number in Spain was no good. And Dawn...Buffy   
had thought--no, she'd hoped--that their father would reappear after   
she died, but that didn't seem likely to happen now.   
  
At least Dawn had the gang--even Spike, if the vampire hadn't already   
fled past the city limits. "Show me Xander, please," she asked, her   
voice weak, but it was only a shadow of how she felt.  
  
He was in the graveyard, with Anya by his side. Both had stakes poised   
and ready, obviously patrolling in her absence. She smiled in   
gratitude, proud of her friends even in her anxiousness for their   
safety, but it seemed everything was all right, here...  
  
...Then she glimpsed the figures hiding in the shadows, and amended her   
statement.   
  
The fight was horrible to watch. Her friends took more blows than they   
gave out, and it looked like the vampires were winning when a black-  
clad blur descended on the group, turning one into ash followed closely   
by another. Buffy knew it was Spike before she even saw him clearly,   
and the relief she felt at seeing him battled with the knowledge that   
he was still a member of the undead. That he had stayed to fight after   
her death was the tie-breaker, and she felt overwhelmed with gratitude   
for Spike's efforts to keep her friends safe.  
  
The vamps who weren't smart enough to flee from the group ended up as   
dust. Buffy's sense of satisfaction came back as she realized her   
friends were victorious. However, what they were saying wasn't   
comforting in the slightest.  
  
"How many was that, now? Ten?" Anya asked as Xander helped her up from   
the ground.  
  
"Nine, I think. I kind of stopped counting after my skull connected   
with that tombstone over there," Xander replied, gingerly touching a   
red spot on his temple.  
  
"It's Buffy's grave they're after. I've been doing my best to keep 'em   
away, but once word spread that the Slayer was gone, Sunnydale's turned   
into sodding Miami Beach during Spring Break." Buffy noticed Spike was   
clutching his side, but her concern was dampened by the meaning of his   
words. Her death had saved reality from coming apart, but now it was   
affecting life in a way she'd never anticipated.  
  
"But it'll die down after awhile...right?" Anya asked hopefully.  
  
Spike shrugged, then winced from the movement. "Dunno. Vamps that would   
normally shy away from here due to the threat of the Slayer are pouring   
in, and the name of Spike is doing bugger all to keep them away. The   
Slayer's a legend, and Buffy..." He ducked his head and visibly   
swallowed, before continuing. "She made her own legends."  
  
Buffy was surprised at how much it hurt to see Spike's grief. And now   
that she was watching, his eyes were the same as Dawn and Giles--  
hollowed and bleak. As if nothing could possibly cause him more pain   
than what he was already suffering.  
  
She had told Dawn to live, to tell her friends to live on for her;   
she'd never meant for them to fight for their lives after she was gone.   
In a small part of her mind, she wept at her lack of foresight. The   
world needed a Slayer, and clearly Faith wasn't in the running, thanks   
to her prison sentence. With two weeks already gone by, it appeared her   
death hadn't called another Slayer, either.  
  
The view stayed with the group as they walked, or limped, away from the   
area, but it didn't register with Buffy--she was already trying to   
solve the problem. "I can't just let this happen. These are my   
friends..."  
  
*You have earned rest, Slayer. The concerns of mortals are beyond your   
worries, now.*  
  
"But they need my help! And, and there's no Slayer to defend the   
Hellmouth...that's tipping the scales way off, wouldn't you say? I   
mean, you guys are into the whole balance thing, right? I have to go   
back."  
  
*That is not possible.*  
  
"Not possible? For you? I don't think so. You can wave a hand, or   
whatever you have, and send me back home, good as new."  
  
*You are correct in saying a balance needs to be maintained. However,   
even We cannot go against the natural order unless a sacrifice is   
made.*  
  
"Great. More sacrifice," Buffy replied under her breath. "So, what do   
you mean, like a human one?"  
  
The Voice ignored the question. *As in magic, a price is paid for   
changing order and bending it to the caster's will. We are beyond   
magic, but the payment is still necessary. We could not remove the one   
you know as Angel from the hell dimension he opened until 100 years had   
passed in that realm.*  
  
"So, again, what do I need to do--or sacrifice--in order to go back?   
I'm already dead, so that's kinda blown..."  
  
*What would you offer?*  
  
Now that took her by surprise. She had nothing to offer them, nothing   
that she didn't need after she got back home. She'd give them her soul,   
but it wasn't a viable choice...she'd need it if she didn't want to be   
a zombie, or possibly even a vampire. The only other thing she could   
think of that she possessed were her memories.  
  
But before she went that far, she asked the Voice something else. "How   
much time would I have to spend here to make the payment for going   
back? You said Angel had 100 years--with time off for good behavior I   
could do maybe fifty? Or twenty-five?"  
  
*Time means little, here. But in your realm, seventeen years would have   
to pass in order to maintain balance.*  
  
Okay, that wasn't going to work. She closed her eyes and quietly said,   
"What if, what if I gave up my memories? How many of them would you   
need in order for that balance thing to happen?"  
  
The silence went on longer than she expected. What could she afford to   
lose, and still be effective? What price would be good enough for them?   
With some reluctance, she added, "How about...five, from when I first   
started as a Slayer. Would that make it even?"  
  
*With the removal of the implanted memories, and a span of three months   
in your realm...yes. It is acceptable.*  
  
"Whoa, wait. Removal of implanted memories?"  
  
*You have two sets of memories of your life, one overlaying the other.   
If that false thread is removed from the rest of the true memories, it   
will meet the requirement for balance and payment.*  
  
The thought of losing those moments with Dawn made her heart heavy, but   
in the end, she chose to accept the bargain. It would be better to be   
there for her and not remember, than to be absent and still have those   
memories. And if nothing else, at least she wouldn't remember her   
mother's death, or sending Angel to hell, or any of the other things   
from the past five years that made her long for a normal life. Besides,   
maybe it would be for the best...even if she couldn't see how, just   
yet.  
  
After a period of time that Buffy was unable to gauge, she was told to   
jump through the portal as scenes from Sunnydale went by...  
  
...and she landed on the ground in a crouch, naked, terrified and   
unable to remember anything beyond her last day as a regular girl, as   
agreed upon in a forgotten transaction.  
  
  
****  
  
  
Willow opened her eyes wearily, her body stiff and sore from lack of   
movement. Giles was right by her side, looking worried and relieved at   
the same time. If he was here, then...then it had been more than three   
hours. Squinting at the light from the encroaching sunset, her mind   
caught up and figured out it had been at least five, if not more.  
  
"Buffy, is she...?" Willow asked, coming fully around. Just then, her   
friend blinked and looked around, disoriented and troubled. Dawn wrung   
her hands and approached her sister cautiously, afraid the spell had   
only succeeded in obliterating the memories that remained.  
  
Buffy focused on the girl, then smiled. "Dawn! Oh God, I remember..."   
she jumped up and hugged her sister, "I remember."  
  
"Everything?" Dawn asked hopefully, and Buffy concentrated for a   
second, then shook her head.   
  
"The implanted memories are still gone. But I remember everything from   
last year, and I think...some of the others, from when I thought back   
on them. It's more of a dream-like memory, though. They're hard to pin   
down."  
  
Willow smiled apologetically. "I'm sorry, I tried. They just weren't   
there."  
  
The blonde woman slumped back into the couch, feeling oddly lighter and   
heavier at the same time. "I know. I remember now why they aren't. It's   
the deal I made."  
  
Willow nodded, knowing this as well, but Giles and Dawn looked at her   
in puzzlement. "Deal? What do you mean, Buffy?" Giles asked.  
  
She leaned back thoughtfully, then shook her head in amazement. "I'll   
tell ya, but I don't know if you'll believe it..."  
  
  
****  
  
  
Tara waved good-bye to her friends as they drove off, shuffling her   
bags to one hand to wave and then back again. She had missed Willow's   
presence today, but it felt good to connect to other people and escape   
Sunnydale for awhile.  
  
It was while climbing the steps that something seemed off. The sound of   
voices, many voices came from the house, the excitement obvious.   
Xander, Anya, Dawn, Giles, Willow and Buffy...there was something going   
on, something big.  
  
And then a sickening feeling settled into her stomach, and she ran the   
rest of the way, trepidation giving way to a horrible certainty as she   
saw the expressions on everyone's face.  
  
"Buffy...?"  
  
"Tara!" Buffy came over and hugged her. "I remember you, now.   
It's...amazing. So much has changed, but in a lot of ways it's still   
the same. I never thought I'd ever get my memory back, though, and it's   
all thanks to Willow."   
  
Tara looked at Willow, who instantly looked guilty. But it wasn't the   
sort of guilt that would lead to honest repentance--it was an "oops,   
you caught me!" look, which meant she wasn't really feeling bad about   
what she'd done...only that she'd gotten caught.  
  
With more reserve and calm than she felt, Tara asked her lover, "What   
did you do?"  
  
Maybe something in her voice showed it, because suddenly the room   
stilled. Willow shuffled and fiddled with a crocheted doily on the   
sofa. "I did a spell...like the one to get Buffy out of that coma. But   
hey, we found out that it was Buffy's choice to come back to the   
living, so no more worrying there. Losing her memories was the price   
she paid to come back--but now, she has them again. Well, mostly."  
  
"Willow, don't you realize how dangerous that was? What if something   
went wrong?" She looked to Giles for help, knowing that he was aware of   
the risks.  
  
He fumbled a bit, stuck between the truth of Tara's words and Willow's   
results. "Tara, I agree with you that what Willow did was extremely   
dangerous, not only to herself, but to Buffy as well. I can't say I   
would have condoned this if she'd come to me first about this. However,   
I was here with her for most of the time, and was prepared to intercede   
if necessary. Her abilities are far beyond mine, though, and she was   
able to do the task without any resulting harm."  
  
Tara shook her head in disbelief. "That's not the point. I know you   
guys are used to danger, used to having to risk your lives to save the   
world. But it doesn't mean that those risks should always be taken.   
Buffy was alive...and I'm sorry, but risking both of your lives in   
exchange for returning those memories, I just don't get it. And it   
worries me, Willow, that you're not understanding the danger involved,   
here."  
  
Suddenly, the meaning of what she'd said sunk in, and the general mood   
lowered significantly. With that said, and Willow staying silent, Tara   
turned to Buffy and smiled genuinely. "I'm glad you have your memories   
back, if it's made you this happy. It couldn't have been easy for you."  
  
Buffy's smiled faltered. "It wasn't. And in a way, I miss not being   
able to recall the bad things, but it's better now. It's better," she   
repeated, as if to reassure herself it was true.  
  



	8. Release

Lost and Foundering  
  
  
~**~**~  
  
Chapter Eight  
  
~**~**~  
  
  
The sunset faded into twilight as Buffy watched out the front window,   
trying to reassimilate all her memories into a cohesive whole, despite   
the headache that continued to nag her. She could recall everything   
from the past few days, and her first impressions with the people she'd   
known for five years. The differences stood out as a stark contrast,   
ones she couldn't afford to ignore.  
  
Xander, who she could fondly remember now, had seemed distant and   
abrasive as she got to know him a second time. He was her friend, no   
doubt, but the camaraderie of old had faded, and it amazed her that she   
hadn't seen it until now. His life was now about his construction job   
and his upcoming wedding to Anya. Once that happened, they would move   
in together, eventually buy a house, have children, and grow farther   
and farther apart from their high school friends.   
  
Her best friend Willow had been there for her, protecting her as   
always, but a lot of what Tara said was true. Her view of Willow was   
rooted in their longtime friendship, and it had blinded her to the   
dangerous pattern of behavior Willow was exhibiting. She hoped it   
wasn't too late to stop her friend from delving any deeper, possibly   
into arcane areas that she shouldn't be in. The memory of what the   
Voice had said about magic needing a price to be paid sent shivers up   
her spine, not wanting to contemplate what this could mean for Willow.  
  
Her sister Dawn...it was hard to fathom that their relationship would   
never be the same again, not in the way it used to be. Instead of being   
the bossy older sis, she'd had the chance to connect with Dawn as a   
friend and confidante. Now, she didn't have the doctored memories the   
monks had given her, so her sister became an abrupt entry into her   
life. Nearly everything she shared with Dawn as a sister was gone, but   
maybe it was possible to salvage something and make a new start.  
  
With Giles, Anya, and Tara, the changes of opinion had been small, but   
noticeable. Her Watcher was not the dutiful father figure she'd   
originally ascribed to him; instead, she now saw him as an older man   
who'd been burdened with a task most would have balked at taking. His   
job had been to train her as a Slayer, then keep watch and advise her   
until she died and the next Slayer was called. Now she could see that   
asking him to be the parental figure for Dawn had been a mistake, one   
that asked too much from him.  
  
Anya was still Anya, no surprise there, but there had been positive   
change, of a sort. As for Tara, it surprised her that she'd grown so   
attached to the woman, when before she merely considered her the girl   
that Willow was in love with. Now she could see why, and it left her   
genuinely happy for her best friend.  
  
Lastly, there was Angel to consider. Looking back on her comments to   
him when he'd arrived, she felt horrible over what she'd said. In   
retrospect, however, it was true--she and Angel were over. It might   
have been a cruel way to make the point, but she didn't have an   
overwhelming need to see him again. He'd have to be told about her   
memory coming back, but other than that, she was content in how things   
stood. For the first time, she felt free from the shadow of their old   
relationship.  
  
The sun had completely set now, leaving only a glimmer of palest violet   
clinging to the horizon. Her friends continued to chatter, the earlier   
jubilance restored and continuing on without her, overjoyed with her   
complete return. As she stared out the window, she wasn't so sure about   
her own happiness anymore. Had it been better the other way?   
  
Maybe that's what the Powers had wanted all along...a way to relieve   
her burden by wiping away the unpleasant memories, starting over new,   
untainted. Or maybe they knew her memories would be restored at some   
point, and they were trying to show her a lesson about her own   
perspective on her friends and family. Either way, she figured that   
she'd been manipulated into the agreement, but she couldn't say she was   
ungrateful. She had a new chance at life, and she had every intention   
of seizing this precious opportunity for all it was worth.  
  
  
****  
  
  
As soon as the darkness took over, Spike was out the crypt door and off   
to Buffy's house, ready to either escort her wherever she needed, or to   
stay awhile and enjoy her and Dawn's presence as they watched something   
on TV.   
  
The lights in the house were on, which meant they were still home.   
Someone was at the window, as well...it looked like it was Buffy, and   
he was proved right when she finally caught sight of him, then turned   
away into the light.   
  
He turned the corner into her yard with an unrepressed grin, but his   
mood dampened slightly when he realized it wasn't just Buffy and Dawn   
in the house. Giles' and Harris' car were in the driveway, and he could   
hear their voices coming from inside. Well, it spoiled his plans a   
little bit, but they weren't unsalvageable.  
  
He jumped up the steps and knocked on the door twice. It opened almost   
immediately onto Buffy, who appeared to be nervous for some reason...  
  
...And then he saw it. True recognition was in her eyes, the way she   
stood, how her hands and arms tightened in his presence. Somehow, some   
way, she remembered everything--and that included the kiss they'd   
shared in his crypt only a couple days ago.   
  
He took a step back, cut to the quick. He knew it would happen   
eventually, but it was too soon...now the closeness they'd shared was   
gone, erased irrevocably by the knowledge that shone in her eyes. This   
Buffy knew he was a monster, and not a man.  
  
"Spike..." Buffy said, her voice sounding uncertain.   
  
"No, it's--I have to, I ought to go. You should be with your friends,   
now that you can..." He choked up, then gave her a watery, apologetic   
smile. "I'm glad your memories are back, Buffy."  
  
He turned and walked away before he said something else, terrified of   
what might come out of his mouth if he stayed. He didn't dare look   
back, certain that Dawn was the only one who would miss him.  
  
  
****  
  
  
Buffy watched as he turned and left, unable to move or say anything in   
response. Her mind was poring over everything that had churned up when   
she'd spotted him from the window.   
  
Of them all, Spike had been the biggest change in opinion for her.   
She'd been putting it off, not wanting to deal with the thoughts she'd   
had in her amnesiac state--never mind the actions--but it was   
inevitable.  
  
She shut the door and leaned her forehead against the jamb, ignoring   
the odd looks her friends must be giving her. This was all so screwed   
up. She wanted to catch up to him, but she didn't know what she would   
say. Who could she talk to about this? Willow would freak if she knew   
about her kiss with Spike, but she was her best friend, so if not her,   
then who...?  
  
Buffy felt a hand on her shoulder and looked over to see Dawn watching   
her, concern etched clearly on her face. She smiled back, knowing it   
was a weak attempt. It was hard to look at her sister, aware of the   
loss of those memories. She could still feel that fierce protectiveness   
at work, but she knew now that if she hoped to have a future   
relationship with Dawn, she had to be more than the bossy older sister.   
It was time to renew the friendship they had begun.  
  
"Dawn, could we go upstairs?" She pleaded. Dawn gave her a confused   
look, then shrugged, which for her was the equivalent of being in   
agreement.  
  
They settled into Buffy's room, ignoring the crowd of people still   
remaining in their living room, bewildered at the secrecy. Dawn crossed   
her arms as she sat down on the bed.  
  
"Okay, spill."  
  
And spill Buffy did, letting the anxieties and the confusion out in a   
torrent of words. Her feelings were torn two different, seemingly   
irreconcilable ways. The situation with the chip muddied the waters   
even more, and his own behavior made matters worse.   
  
"First he was evil, then he was snarky but harmless, and now he's nice   
and almost sweet in a very un-Spike-like way. He didn't even lie to me   
when I couldn't remember what he was like. What makes this even tougher   
is that when I only saw him as he is now, without the memories, I   
started to...like him. In a definite boy-girl way."  
  
Dawn smirked in satisfaction. "Yeah, I could see that going on. What   
else?"  
  
"Well, I didn't tell anyone about this, but when I went to see him   
after he was tortured, I kind of kissed him." When Buffy saw Dawn's   
eyes bug out, she added, "Nothing smooshy, it was just something to   
thank him. However, while he told me about this, I wanted to know what   
it was like since I couldn't remember...so I kissed him. Except this   
time it was more than gratitude."  
  
Her sister's eyes bugged out at this scrap of news. "Oh, wow. But, when   
did this happen? I don't remember you guys being alone for that long."  
  
"I snuck out of the house to talk to him and make him tell me   
everything about his past, and he did. Even stuff I'd never heard   
before. He didn't try anything, either. But now, there's this ickiness   
where I realize I wasn't seeing all the changes he'd been through. I   
was letting the past dictate my opinion of him, and I know how I felt   
about him while not being able to remember...well. It's all a mess, a   
big, confusing mess."  
  
"Buffy, it's not so confusing," Dawn replied, shaking her head.  
  
"It's not?"  
  
"C'mon. Are you running for the Miss Clueless award, or what? You like   
him, and you know you like him. Are you still hung up about him being a   
vampire, even though he's shown that he's not the same?"  
  
"Well, that's the thing. I don't know anymore. One part of me is   
screaming at me to run after him, but the other part says that path   
will only lead to more pain and suffering."  
  
"Buffy, *life* is pain and suffering. If there's one thing I've learned   
in the past few months, it's that you have to take what joy you can get   
when it's there. If you don't, you end up wasting it. I regretted so   
much when you were gone, Buffy. I wished I'd done so many things   
differently. I don't want to see that happen with you, especially if it   
means sacrificing happiness. You wanted us to live, for you. Now I want   
you to do the same for yourself. Please, give it a try."  
  
Buffy considered Dawn's plea and seriously thought it over. It wasn't   
easy to let go of the dreams she'd had since before high school, ones   
where she had a normal life and never worried about anything more   
serious than car payments or bills. She always believed those dreams   
were dead, but they'd never left, not completely. It was time to truly   
move on, past the ruins of her early Slayer years and her relationships   
with Angel and Riley, past the hurt and pain she'd held in for so long.   
  
"Maybe I'm afraid that this time, it *would* work out. What an irony   
that would be, huh?" Buffy mused, and started to stroke Dawn's hair.   
"When did my little sister become so wise?"  
  
"Hey, it happens," she grinned, then added, "Now, are you going to sit   
there, or are you going to find Spike and get this all straightened   
out?"  
  
"Right. Time to end this, once and for all." Buffy winced and held the   
side of her head. "Well, just as soon as I take some more painkillers."  
  
  
****  
  
  
He'd thought about going to the Bronze first, then decided against it   
in case Buffy and her friends went there to celebrate. Instead, he   
ended up at his crypt, not so long after he'd left it.   
  
What a difference a few minutes made. He'd been higher than a cloud   
when he'd left, but coming back, it felt like no drainage ditch or   
tunnel was low enough for his mood. He couldn't bring himself to drown   
his sorrows, and he wasn't in the mood for violence. So he flipped on   
the TV and sat down to watch whatever he could manage to get with a   
halfway decent reception.  
  
It didn't help. Frustrated, he turned it off and sat back down in his   
chair, trying to will the pain away. He shouldn't have hoped, shouldn't   
have wanted more than what he'd gotten. She remembered him now, and he   
was grateful for it...the Buffy he loved was completely back, and while   
he had been nice to have her close, even friendly, he knew it would be   
temporary. He could only hope that she wouldn't hurt him for the nice   
little snog they'd had in the crypt.  
  
The sound of knocking intruded on his thoughts, but before he could say   
something nasty, he realized that someone had *knocked* on his door   
before entering. Who did that, nowadays? Willow, or Dawn...?  
  
"Come in," he called out in minor incredulity at the politeness, which   
grew into major disbelief as he saw the culprit. He stood up from the   
chair in amazement.  
  
"Buffy, what--?"  
  
"I need to talk to you, before someone finds me and tries to talk me   
out of this," she began nervously, even worse than she'd been at the   
house. What on earth did she have to be nervous about?  
  
"Pet, I understand what's happened. I knew it would come back   
eventually, and I should have known better than to--what I mean is, I   
shouldn't have let you--"  
  
"No, I know what happened. I was there." She smiled tentatively, then   
sighed and walked a little further into the crypt. "I kissed you.   
Twice, if you count the one by the window, and I do."  
  
He watched her in bafflement as she wandered over, stopping when she   
was close enough to reach out and touch him. "Spike, I'm not entirely   
sure of everything just yet. I don't even know if--if I can keep the   
house, or what to do about school. I wanted to take poetry in the fall,   
but I can't afford it, not anymore..."  
  
"You like poetry?" He interrupted, sure that he must have misheard her.  
  
Her eyes lit up at the question. "Oh, definitely. I was taking it last   
year, but I couldn't finish the class because of the bitch goddess's   
sucky timing. We were just going through the 19th century, with the   
English poets first, I think."  
  
Their eyes met, and he could see that she was remembering what he'd   
told her about his past, his *true* past. "Spike, why didn't you tell   
me the truth? About you as a human?"  
  
"I didn't think it would be good for the Big Bad image. Spike's not as   
impressive when everyone knows he's a sappy poet, is he?" He shook his   
head sadly, "If you knew me, saw who William really was...you would've   
laughed."  
  
"I didn't laugh when you told me."  
  
"That was different; you didn't remember me, then."  
  
"I remember you now...do you see me laughing?"  
  
It started to sink in that something was definitely occurring,   
something that might even be in his favor. "No, I don't."  
  
Why she wasn't laughing at him soon became apparent, because she was   
leaning in and kissing him lightly, the gesture taking him completely   
by surprise. She broke it off soon after, and he was left standing   
there, looking at her as if someone had taken possession of her body.  
  
"W-what was that for?"  
  
She was smiling, as if she took delight in seeing him off-balance.   
Maybe she did. "To thank you for the way you behaved when I couldn't   
remember you. You didn't take advantage of me, and you could have."  
  
"No, I couldn't. Not when you weren't the Buffy I knew." Her eyes   
searched his for an explanation, so he tried to clarify. "Yeah, it was   
you after all, and I loved seeing you so happy and carefree. But in the   
end, what I want can only come from a Buffy who knows what I am. I   
couldn't take it from you, not when it wasn't yours to give."  
  
This time, the kiss wasn't so unexpected, but the passion behind it   
truly threw him for a loop. He pulled her in, his hands roaming along   
her back as she leaned in, her arms moving from his shoulders to his   
neck, tugging him down closer, deeper.   
  
After a long time, she finally pulled free, a thoroughly satisfied look   
on her face. Before he could say anything, she said breathlessly,   
"That's so you know it's me."  
  
Spike stared back at her, amazed. As the grin crept across his face, he   
closed his eyes and began to recite, "O, that you were yourself! but,   
love, you are/ No longer yours than you yourself here live:/ Against   
this coming end you should prepare./ And your sweet semblance to some   
other give./ So should that beauty which you hold in lease/ Find no   
determination; then you were/ Yourself again after yourself's   
decease..."  
  
He opened his eyes to find her staring at him in awe. Somewhat taken   
aback, he replied a bit sheepishly, "It's from one of Shakespeare's   
sonnets; number thirteen, I believe."  
  
"And you just...knew that off the top of your head?"  
  
"Well, I'd read it beforehand, a few days ago. It reminded me of you."  
  
"That was--wow."  
  
"Not exactly love poetry, I'll grant you, but you'll have to give me   
time for that. It won't be as good, but it won't be another man's   
words, at least."  
  
Had he just promised to write her mediocre love poetry? He half-  
expected to see a glare of reproof coming from her, but instead she   
merely grinned as if it was the most wonderful thing she'd ever heard.   
  
Spike was entirely confused in a wonderful, giddy way, but he wasn't   
sure if Buffy herself realized what had happened between them. Somehow,   
she was holding on to him, loving him if not in love with him, smiling   
and thrilled beyond anything he'd ever seen from her.  
  
"Buffy, not that I'm complaining here, but what's happened? You don't   
smell of alcohol, and your eyes aren't glassy." He peered into her eyes   
as if looking for divination into her mood. "You're not under some sort   
of spell, are you?"   
  
Hurt crossed her face for a split second, before her demeanor changed   
and she began to chuckle, a deep laugh that made him join in with her.   
After catching her breath, she replied, "No, no spell here, not this   
time. This is all me, one hundred percent Buffy, standing in front of   
you. She's kinda had an epiphany, you might say."  
  
"Really? Do tell," he urged.  
  
"Well, when I came here, I was pretty much planning to have a talk with   
you, hash things out, make a tentative step forward. But when you said   
you couldn't take from me, what I hadn't given to you...I realized that   
it was time for me to give back to you. Here you've been, giving of   
yourself to Dawn and me, and the rest of the group--and I was coming to   
you with loads of conditions and maybes. Loving someone isn't about   
taking, it's about giving. It's about putting the other person's needs   
above your own.  
  
"And since I love you, I can't do anything less than that, can I?"  
  
He didn't need to ask if it was the truth--he could see it clear as day   
on her face, in her eyes, in her voice. Temporarily, he lost all his   
remaining wits and just gazed at her in amazement. Then he cradled her   
face in his hands and kissed her, gently at first, but then with   
increasing ardour as she responded in kind.  
  
Eventually she needed to pause for air, and as she pulled away, Spike   
stated with a dazed grin on his face, "You love me."  
  
"Uh huh," she answered, smiling.  
  
"Have I told you lately that I'm madly in love with you?"  
  
"Yes, if you count right now," she teased.  
  
"And did I mention that I'm the luckiest bloke ever to exist, for   
having such a beautiful, amazing, intelligent, and fascinating woman in   
love with an undeserving someone like me?" He asked as he brushed away   
a stray hair from her face.  
  
"Who's this woman you're talking about? 'Cause she sounds like serious   
competition," Buffy joked, even though Spike could tell the remark had   
touched her deeply.  
  
Instead of replying, he leaned down and gave her a slow kiss, then   
murmured, "Does that answer your question?"  
  
"Mm-hmm. I think so--ahh!" Buffy winced in pain and grabbed her head.   
Spike pulled back to give her some space, but he didn't let go of her.  
  
"You all right, love? What's wrong?"  
  
"Just a headache that's been coming and going. I haven't been able to--  
ungh, stop it." She leaned into him and he braced her, then lead her   
over to his only chair.  
  
"Rest for a bit, here," he said as she slumped into the chair, eyes   
closed from the pain. "Can I get you something?"  
  
"No, I already took pills before. It's stronger this time, guess it's   
not working..." she trailed off in agony as she leaned over, head in   
hands with tears streaming down her face. "God, it hurts."  
  
He tensed in frustration, seeing the woman he loved in pain, and unable   
to do a thing about it. All he could do was stay by her side, and wait   
fearfully for things to get better, or worse.  
  



	9. Resolutions

Lost and Foundering  
  
  
~**~**~  
  
Chapter Nine  
  
~**~**~  
  
  
The way back to Willow's apartment was spent in silence. Tara had kept   
quiet almost the entire time they'd been at Buffy's house, and they   
left shortly after Buffy had fled the house for parts unknown. Dawn had   
come down the stairs and said she was merely going to the cemetery for   
a little patrolling time, but neither of the witches bought it. Willow   
didn't think anyone in the house did--with the exception of Giles, who   
would willingly believe it if only to keep visions of the alternative   
out of his head.  
  
She tossed the keys on the kitchen counter as always, finding a bit of   
solace in routine actions. From the look on Tara's face and the telling   
anger in her posture, there was going to be a fight to make the prior   
one pale in comparison.  
  
"Tara, would you like some tea? I can make us some..."  
  
"No." The word was softly spoken, but it echoed in the room with a   
harsh, brittle edge.  
  
"O-kay," she replied, and settled into a nearby couch. "You want to   
talk? Let's talk."  
  
"Willow, don't treat this so lightly. What you did today...it was   
incredibly dangerous. You put Buffy's life--and yours--into a dangerous   
situation that didn't need to be done."  
  
"Didn't need to be done?" Willow parroted back incredulously. "Tara,   
are you kidding? Buffy *needed* her memories. Without them, she   
couldn't fight like she used to, and she couldn't remember people and   
things. She wanted them back so badly, so everything could be like they   
were before."  
  
"Are you sure it wasn't *you* that wanted it so badly?"  
  
Willow gave her a confused look, not sure what she meant. "Well, sure I   
wanted it too. I thought we all did."  
  
"Yes, we all wanted her memories to return. But I don't think Buffy   
wanted it back as much as you want to believe."  
  
"You don't know her like I do, Tara. She'd never want to be less than   
whole. You *saw* how happy she was!"  
  
"I saw a woman who looked both happy and sad. You gave back her   
memories, yes, but you also gave back the pain that went with them. For   
all we know, they were missing for a reason."  
  
Willow shook her head, unwilling to believe it. "No. I know what I did   
was right. Not just for Buffy, but for everyone."  
  
"Honey, it's not only that. You've been frightening me with your   
powers. You're expanding them so fast, it's been almost too fast.   
You've stopped asking me for help or advice..."  
  
"Hey, I'm not the one who went off shopping in L.A. when *someone* came   
over to do a few spells together."  
  
Tara stared at her in disbelief. "Now you're blaming me for not being   
there? You never even asked if I had plans!"  
  
"Well, I didn't, but that's no excuse for not staying with me. You   
could've blown them off, I know they wouldn't mind."  
  
"That's not the point. And I'm not going to go down that road since   
it's only leading me away from my main point. You're not being careful   
enough when you use magic, Willow. You're dealing with raw, powerful   
forces that if left unchecked, will go spinning out of control."  
  
"I'm not the incompetent novice you knew when we first met. I've   
learned how to harness that power, and I've done a lot of good with it.   
I'd think you'd be happy for me."  
  
Tara shook her head, worry overriding some of the anger. "Willow, do   
you think I'm happy when you put your life in danger like that? Why   
can't you see that I only want you to be careful and follow the laws   
that were established for our own safety, not to mention the safety of   
others."  
  
When Willow merely sat there, not willing to meet her gaze, Tara added,   
"I know you're casting spells when I'm not around. You even tried to   
cast something in the bathroom a couple nights ago. What was it?"  
  
Alarmed, she looked at Tara and saw a resolve come over her face. All   
of her secrecy had been for nothing, it seemed. "It doesn't matter. It   
didn't work, anyway."  
  
"How do you know?" Tara asked, crossing her arms.  
  
"I didn't get the right reaction. It flared a little, but then it died.   
I think the ingredients might have been bad."  
  
"Willow, listen to me carefully--what was the spell you cast?"  
  
If it wasn't for the deadly calm way she asked the question, Willow   
might have considered persuading her that it was nothing of importance.   
"I...tried casting a remembrance spell on Buffy."  
  
Anger flared in Tara's eyes, the sort of rage she wasn't used to   
seeing, ever. "Get me the ingredients for casting a dissolution spell.   
We better do it quickly before something happens."  
  
Frowning in puzzlement, Willow grabbed the supplies and handed them to   
her. Without hesitation, Tara began the ritual to dissolve the spell   
while Willow watched, unsure what to do. This wasn't really necessary,   
was it?  
  
"Come inside the circle--I need your presence as the original caster to   
help strengthen the results." Willow stepped inside the casting circle,   
and Tara quickly began to chant, knowing the words by heart. Soon, a   
glow started to emanate from the circle, and it coalesced into a ball   
of light that seemed to pull in fragments of energy from within and   
outside of the apartment. After that task was done, Tara spoke a final   
phrase and the ball shrank as if being sucked into someplace else, then   
it vanished without a sound.  
  
Tara wilted slightly when the light faded, but she recovered after a   
second and looked Willow in the eye.   
  
"Don't ever leave a spell unfinished or incomplete; it risks tilting   
the balance. Something horrible could have happened to you, or to   
Buffy, or even to the source where magic comes from."  
  
"Really?" She looked at the spent components, as the reality of what   
had occurred began to dawn on her. "You mean, my spell didn't just go   
poof?"  
  
"Willow, you need to study the methods and rules that go with magic. I   
thought I'd taught you these things, but maybe I didn't do a good   
enough job."  
  
She frowned, not sure what her point was. "Tara, I understand the rules   
just fine. I'm not a baby. I forgot about the spell dissolution, that's   
all. But sometimes, y'know, you just have to ignore the rules and do   
what needs to be done. You can't have progress unless there's a little   
rebellion of the status quo, right?"  
  
The blonde witch looked at her in horror. "No, Willow. You don't   
understand at all, do you? Why didn't I see this before?"  
  
"What? Why didn't you see what, before?"  
  
"You told me about being a hacker in high school, how you loved   
tinkering with computers and learning about new things. You see magic   
as something to be explored, and--and experimented with," she said the   
last with a trace of disbelief in her voice.  
  
"Tara--"  
  
"No, I need to...I think it would be best for us both if we just..."  
  
"If we just, what?" Willow asked, her world suddenly becoming very   
tilted and unstable.  
  
"I don't know what else I can do, what more I can say to convince you   
how dangerous this is," Tara said, with tears starting to form in her   
eyes. "If you won't listen to me, then--then I can't stay here with   
you."  
  
Willow felt like she'd been sucker-punched. "W-what? Tara, you   
can't...I don't want you to leave. Please, I'll listen. Whatever you   
want, I'll do it."  
  
"You need to realize what you're doing, Willow. I can't be the reason.   
I want to help you in any way I can, but I won't be lied to anymore.   
The path you're taking leads to destruction, and I can't lead you away   
from it if you don't trust my judgement."  
  
"So it's good-bye if I don't shape up?" She felt her body shake from a   
mixture of grief and outrage. "How *dare* you lay that on me. I thought   
you loved me--but now it's 'I won't love you anymore if you don't do   
this'?"  
  
"No, that's not it at all--"  
  
"Well, that's what it looks like to me." Willow stood up and tried to   
blink away her tears. "I think you better go."  
  
Tara attempted to say something, then stopped herself and merely   
nodded. She grabbed her purse and said before closing the door. "I love   
you, Willow. Don't ever doubt that."  
  
But as the door closed, Willow could only feel the doubt piling up in   
her heart, until it finally broke in an outward rush of sorrow and   
dismay.  
  
  
****  
  
  
Buffy had nearly passed out from the pain when miraculously, the   
headache stopped dead in its tracks. Spike was about to pick her up and   
carry her out of there, until she looked up in surprise and relief.   
  
"It's gone."  
  
Similar relief flashed across his face, but it was soon overtaken with   
concern. "You better go home, in case it flares up again."  
  
"No, I'm okay," she wiped away the tears, not sure how to explain it.   
"The pain didn't fade like before, it just...vanished. Like it had   
never been there."  
  
He kneeled down by the chair and took one of her hands in his. "God, I   
was scared outta my mind, Buffy. I didn't know what was going on. And   
your memories are fine? Everything present and accounted for?"  
  
"Yep, except there's this thing where I don't have any idea who you   
are," she said innocently, blinking in a hopefully vacuous way.  
  
After a horrified second, Spike rolled his eyes. "Don't do that to me,   
pet. If I'd had a heartbeat, it surely would have skipped a few,   
there."  
  
She grinned evilly. "Hey, I gotta keep you on your toes, somehow."  
  
"That you do," he smiled, then stood up and offered her a hand. She   
took it and was quickly pulled up into an embrace that almost took her   
completely off her feet. "The way I do it, however, is a bit different   
than yours."  
  
And as their lips met once again, Buffy decided she liked his way of   
keeping her on her toes much, much better.  
  
  
****  
  
  
Dawn heard her sister sneak into the house a few minutes after Tara   
came back. The blonde witch's return was a surprise, and by the looks   
of it, she was in no mood to discuss why.  
  
Buffy, in contrast, had virtually floated in. One peek from the crack   
of her partly-open door showed her sister almost beaming. There was no   
doubt in Dawn's mind what, or who, had caused that smile.  
  
The morning echoed the same vibes, albeit diminished. Tara's entry into   
the kitchen dulled Buffy's cheerful mood, and after a number of   
seconds, the pressure of curiosity and concern won out over a respect   
for privacy.  
  
"Tara, is everything okay?" Dawn asked, and the woman merely shook her   
head, too upset to respond.  
  
"What happened? Was it Willow?" At her name, Tara looked up at Buffy in   
surprise.  
  
"We--we had a fight, a-and I told her I couldn't be around her anymore.   
It was horrible."  
  
"You broke up with Willow?" Buffy asked in astonishment, certainly not   
expecting this.  
  
Tara nodded, then added, "She's been lying to me, and doing spells when   
she thinks I don't know about them. She even did a spell on you a   
couple nights ago, t-to try and make you remember."  
  
Buffy stared off for a second, then said, "I started having headaches   
yesterday, in the morning. But last night they just vanished into thin   
air."  
  
"Last night? When?" Tara asked, suddenly curious.  
  
"It was after I left the house, maybe around 7:30?"  
  
"I cast a dissolution spell right before then. The unfinished spell   
must have been causing the headaches."  
  
Buffy's eyes widened at the news. "What would have happened if you   
didn't cast it?"  
  
Tara shrugged helplessly. "I don't know. But it wouldn't have been   
good, that's for sure."  
  
The idea that Willow had unintentionally caused so much pain was   
nothing new to Dawn--she still remembered the fallout from a spell   
Willow had unwittingly cast which nearly ended up with Buffy, Xander,   
Anya and Spike dead by demon hands, and Giles blinded for life. But   
that had been years ago...surely Willow knew better, now?  
  
As Tara began to explain, however, it didn't seem that was the case. As   
she finished, it looked like Buffy wasn't totally taken by surprise.   
Her older sister pursed her lips in thought, then crossed her arms in a   
gesture Dawn knew all too well.  
  
"I'm going to have to talk to Willow, I guess. But if she won't listen   
to you, Tara..."  
  
"I think she'll hear you, Buffy. You're her best friend, aside from   
Xander. If you both confront her about it, maybe she'll realize what   
she's doing and stop it. But I can't do this for her--she has to be   
willing to change her ways because it's what she wants to do, not   
because I want it for her."  
  
Buffy was pensive for a moment, then smiled faintly. "I know that   
dilemma. Hell, I've *been* that dilemma. But knowing Willow, if she   
doesn't think she's wrong...well, stubbornness isn't quite the word for   
it."  
  
"I know," Tara nodded sagely. "Believe me, I know."  
  
  
****  
  
  
Later in the day, members of the gang trickled into the Magic Box one   
by one. No official meeting had been called, but Buffy had let everyone   
know that Tara and Willow had split up, so Xander and Giles came over   
as a gesture of support, while Anya continued to take care of   
customers. Dawn was at a friend's house and Willow was at work, so they   
talked freely over the same concerns Buffy and Tara had shared over at   
the Summers' house.  
  
"Well, I for one am not surprised," Anya offered from behind the   
counter, the shop empty of customers for the moment. "Throw that all in   
with the thieving, deviant behavior she displayed while Giles was away   
the first time, and you're just asking for a big heap of trouble."  
  
"Ahn, this is my best friend we're talking about," Xander replied   
painfully, still in dismay over the news. Tara had already left,   
letting everyone know that she wasn't leaving Sunnydale. She planned to   
move out of Buffy's home and temporarily into a friend's apartment,   
just until she figured out what came next. She had no plans of   
abandoning Willow, but unless there was reason to stay beyond the end   
of semester, she was preparing to transfer to another school.  
  
He sighed, then continued, "We know she's not doing this consciously,   
right? I mean, she's not evil, not like some peroxided felons I could   
name."  
  
Buffy straightened in her chair, offended at the remark. Then she   
sagged back, remembering that they didn't know about her and Spike,   
yet. "Of course, Xander. She's a good person. But if you're looking for   
an example of evil then, well, the Master's pretty high on the list.   
Or--or the Mayor, who turned into a giant snake. Can't get more evil   
than that, huh?"  
  
Xander looked at her in confusion. "Yeah, I guess...but then again   
they're dead, and I was searching for something a little more   
contemporary and slightly more alive. Figuratively speaking."  
  
"Ah. Yes, contemporary," Buffy replied, then desperately tried to   
change the subject. "So, how about--Willow! You're here!"  
  
"Yes, I am," Willow said from the doorway, and everyone turned to see   
her. "Gang's all here, too. What's going on?"  
  
"We heard about you and Tara...and the imploding," Xander said, then   
brightened. "Oh, and hey, Buffy's headaches are gone. Seems that a   
spell you did was giving her some serious migraines, and then last   
night--poof! All gone."  
  
Buffy shot Xander a look, which instantly made him shut up. "Willow--"  
  
"My spell gave you headaches? Oh Buffy, I'm sorry!" Willow came over   
and sat down next to her. "If I knew...oh God. Tara, if she hadn't cast   
that spell...?"  
  
"We don't know, but there's a chance it wouldn't have involved   
happiness and light. More like, severe pain and a possible hospital   
visit." Buffy hated to be the truth-teller in this situation, but if   
Tara was right, they couldn't just brush this under the rug.  
  
Willow's eyes widened in horror. "Oh no. I didn't mean to--you know I   
wouldn't do this on purpose."  
  
Buffy frowned, "No, of course not. But this isn't the only time   
something like this has happened, Will. You have to start being more   
careful. The spells you're doing are scaring Tara, and now we're all a   
little concerned about you."  
  
"What? Me?" She looked to Xander, and he stared back at her, obviously   
in distress. "Xander, you know me. I'm not anyone to be concerned   
about. I'm the Queen of Passivity."  
  
"Will, it's not about you, really," he replied. "It's the actions   
you're taking. You've changed a lot, but you're still Willow--I know   
this better than anyone. But when you're casting spells, you're dealing   
with powers that even advanced witches can barely comprehend.   
Maybe...maybe you should just cool it with the spell casting, just for   
a little while."  
  
"Give up witchcraft?" Willow was clearly astounded. "What, just because   
a couple spells went wacky? What if every scientist had stopped   
experimenting just because something went wrong, or every theorist quit   
because the numbers wouldn't fit? We'd be in the dark ages, using   
horses for transportation and still thinking the moon's made out of   
green cheese."  
  
"You mean it's not?" Anya asked, puzzled.  
  
Everyone turned, astounded at the remark. Willow pointed at her in   
triumph. "See?"  
  
Xander wasn't buying it. "Will, c'mon. You're not a scientist, you're a   
witch. Witches don't experiments, they do...witchy things. Right, Ahn?"  
  
Anya, still a little thrown by the revelation about the moon, answered   
back, "Oh, yeah. Tinkering around with spells is a quick way of getting   
yourself killed, not to mention possibly summoning a troll who ends up   
destroying a good portion of a magic shop, with unpaid-for supplies and   
against the recommendation of a certain ex-demon--"  
  
"Okay, that's good, Ahn. Thanks," Xander cut her off, and she glowered   
sullenly. "What we're trying to say--somewhat ineptly--is that these   
things you're doing? It's leading to ultimate sorrow, pain, and   
anguish. Never a good thing, in my book."  
  
"I agree with Xander," Giles commented. "I've cautioned you before   
about dealing with witchcraft, and while I've been impressed by the   
amount of power you've displayed, it's also concerned me. You need more   
experience in dealing with spells and the like before you have the   
strength and wisdom needed to control the more powerful spells you've   
been attempting."  
  
"I don't believe this," Willow said, stunned. "If it wasn't for me and   
my *dangerous* spells, Dawn might have been killed by the Knights of   
Byzantium, or by Glory herself."  
  
"You also thought you could take on Glory, and nearly got yourself   
killed," Buffy replied. "If it wasn't for me, you *would* be dead."  
  
This took some wind out of Willow's sails. "How did you know I was   
there, anyway?"  
  
Everyone was now looking at Buffy. She stumbled for a reply. "Well, I   
was with Dawn, and Spike mentioned that he thought you might be all   
paybacky, and I didn't you would be, but then Dawn convinced me   
otherwise, so I went to Glory's, and there you were. End of story."  
  
"Spike knew I'd be there?" This seemed to affect Willow more than their   
line of reasoning had done, to date. "How?"  
  
"Because he said that if what happened to Tara had happened to me, he'd   
be doing the same thing," Buffy finished quietly. The group took that   
in without comment, and Willow seemed to be seriously mulling it over.  
  
"Tara...God. She means everything to me, and now she--she's gone. What   
have I done?" The witch asked herself with the first sign of serious   
repentance.  
  
"Will, we're not asking you to give up witchcraft, or casting spells.   
We're just afraid for you, like Tara is. We're only trying to help."  
  
She nodded in response, a little numb from her revelation. "I guess   
maybe Spike's not as bad as I thought," she said, a smile hinting at   
the corners of her mouth.  
  
"Yeah, maybe," Buffy said, with her own grateful smile.  
  
"He's been really nice these past few months. I feel kinda bad for him,   
since he knew that once you got your memories back, you'd hate him   
again."  
  
"What? Why did he think that?"  
  
"Um, because you would, Buffy," Xander answered, now a bit edgy.   
"Right?"  
  
"I don't hate him, guys," she replied, knowing she was heading down the   
path of no return, but unable to stop. "I haven't hated him for awhile,   
now."  
  
"Since when?" Giles asked.  
  
Buffy shuddered from the memory of the day he earned her trust. "Since   
he got tortured on my behalf. There's no way I could hate him after   
that. And after all he's done recently...I couldn't treat that as   
nothing. It's one of the things I learned about myself, when I couldn't   
remember the past five years. Sometimes, forgiving someone is about   
forgetting the past, letting it go."  
  
Willow watched her in fascination, while Xander and Giles looked on in   
horror, and Anya merely stared. Finally, Willow said, "You're in love   
with him, aren't you?"  
  
"What??" Xander shrieked, before Buffy could respond. "In love with   
Spike?"  
  
"Surely not, Willow. Buffy, tell her she's mistaken."  
  
"I can't, Giles...because she's not."  
  
After a long, painful beat, he replied, "Dear Lord."  
  
Xander stared at her in shock. "I thought we didn't have to do this   
again. Three times is most definitely *not* the charm."  
  
"Guys, c'mon! We know Spike. He's not really all that bad...and he   
stayed with us even when Buffy was gone. He could've left us in the   
lurch, after all the vampires and demons came around."  
  
"He's still a vampire; a soulless vampire, no less," Xander pointed   
out. "Giles, Watcher-man, back me up, here."  
  
The older man straightened his glasses. "No, thank you, I'm staying out   
of this. One Slayer-vampire relationship was enough for me, if you   
don't mind."  
  
"Thanks, Giles."  
  
"This doesn't mean I approve, Buffy," he responded in a stern voice. "I   
don't. But if there's anything you've proven to me, it's that you'll do   
as you like regardless of what I say. Besides, you're a grown woman   
and, I hope, mature enough to make your own decisions."  
  
"Thank you...I think," she said, somewhat baffled.   
  
"Well, I'm not freaking out too badly," Willow offered with a hesitant   
smile. "But you're sure about this? Really sure?"  
  
Buffy thought back to the look on Spike's face when she'd kissed him,   
and through to when he'd first seen her after she had come back.   
"Definitely, Will," she replied with a smile. "For the first time in a   
long while, I'm happy. He makes me happy--and I can be myself with him,   
no conditions or covering up my real identity."  
  
"But what about the chip, Buf? He loses that, and it's good-bye   
boyfriend, hello evil monster. Again."  
  
Buffy shook her head, and even Xander was impressed by her resolve.   
"No, it won't. These last three months, he's been here with you,   
fighting the fighting...and for what? Not my approval, that's for sure.   
You've been around him, fought alongside him, talked and even made nice   
with him," she glanced pointedly at Xander, who shrunk a bit in his   
seat. "Can you honestly tell me he hasn't changed?"  
  
"He has altered his behavior," Giles allowed, "but his nature is that   
of a vampire--a demon. One who has no conscience, no soul to speak of.   
Without that, he's just a monster."  
  
"Giles, wasn't it you who told me that there were two types of   
monsters? That those who could be redeemed were able to love--and   
wanted to be redeemed, while the ones who weren't able to reason or   
love, couldn't be redeemed?"  
  
He stared off, trying to remember what she was talking about, and then   
it hit him. "Bloody--you're right. You're absolutely right, I did say   
that. Amazing. You *do* listen to what I say, after all."  
  
She grinned. "What can I tell you? That spell-trance thing is really   
good at sharpening the memories."  
  
"So, wait. You're on Buffy's side, now?" Xander complained to Giles,   
feeling left out.  
  
"Well, as it happens, I recall saying that back when we were talking   
about the possibility of Angel returning from Acathla's demon   
dimension. Your incredibly vivid 'dream', I believe it was."  
  
Buffy wrung her hands in guilt. "I know, and I'm still sorry about   
that, but moving on...Spike loves me. He loves Dawn, too, in an   
entirely different way than me. And in a way, I think he cares about   
all of you, to some degree.   
  
"As for wanting to be redeemed, well, he might not be there, yet. He's   
heading in that direction, though, and he stopping trying to convince   
us he's evil a long time ago. Now, the only time he'll say it is when   
he's trying to persuade someone against putting their trust in him. He   
did it for me, just a few days ago, and he did it for Dawn as well. If   
anything, though, he's proven that he's trustworthy."  
  
"His actions speak louder than his words?" Willow offered. "I can see   
that."  
  
"Okay, I admit it--he is a lot different now than he was in the   
beginning. And he's only partly as annoying as the original dead boy,"   
Xander capitulated. "I'm not thrilled about it, though."  
  
"Gee, your support is so overwhelming," Buffy teased, then turned to   
her other friend. "Willow?"  
  
"Oh, well, if you're happy, that's all I need. And if he hurts you in   
any way, shape, or form, then he's gonna feel my wrath," she replied   
with confident glee, then frowned. "Well, my wrath is probably going to   
be not so much with the spell casting, and more with the heavy end of a   
shovel, but still."  
  
"O-kay. Glad to hear it, Will." Buffy smiled, only a little disturbed.   
"So even if we do the relationshippy stuff in front of you guys, it's   
all right?"  
  
She heard Xander's forehead hit the table with a groan, and sighed in   
defeat. "Guess we still need to work on that one."  
  



	10. Epilogue

Lost and Foundering  
  
  
~**~**~  
  
Epilogue  
  
~**~**~  
  
  
  
As a way to unwind, they all ended up at the Bronze that night, even Dawn. In   
the days after Buffy's return, this was the first time they really felt like   
celebrating. A band played loudly and enthusiastically on the stage; Willow   
didn't think they were as good as the Dingoes, and Buffy wryly commented that   
she never thought anyone was as good as Oz's old band.   
  
Dawn nearly glowed from the presence of so many older, attractive guys. Some of   
them were so old, they were even seniors in high school, she remarked lightly,   
and Xander almost choked on his drink. Anya slapped his back in an effort to   
help, but it only made his skin tingle in a way he didn't like.  
  
"So what does that make me, I wonder?" He managed to reply when his lungs had   
stopping aching.   
  
"Oh, you don't count, Xander," Dawn smiled, and he didn't know whether to be   
offended or grateful to be excluded from whatever list she had created.  
  
Willow bobbed her straw around in her ginger ale, twirling the ice cubes   
absently. "Do you think Tara will show up?"  
  
"Don't know, Will. She knows we come here, she might not want to run into...us,"   
he covered just barely, seeing the hurt look on her face. His eyes paused on   
something in the distance, then he continued, "But if she was here, what would   
you do?"  
  
"What? She's here?" Willow spun around. Xander tried to stop her, but she   
countered, "I saw that pause-y thing you did with your eyes. You saw her!"  
  
"Willow, hold on--" Buffy tried, but the redhead found her target and   
disappeared into the crowd in search of her. "Slick move, Mr. Pause-y Eyes."  
  
"Hey, it's not like I planned it or anything," he defended himself, then paused   
again. "Now there's someone I *really* didn't want to spot."  
  
Buffy frowned then turned to look, and the frown instantly evaporated into a   
grin. A certain white-blond haired man made his way through the throng of people   
to stop at the Slayer's side, matching her grin.  
  
"Hey, cutie."  
  
"Hey," she responded, tilting her head up for the kiss he offered her. They both   
ignored the slight gagging noise coming from the other side of the table.   
  
"Sod off, Harris," Spike replied good-naturedly. "Fancy a twirl around the dance   
floor, love?"  
  
"Thought you'd never ask," she answered, and placed her hand in his as they   
walked over to the large group of people swaying to the beat of the music.  
  
Dawn, Xander and Anya watched them leave, then Anya turned to Xander and asked   
something that had obviously been nagging her all night. "I was wondering...if   
Willow and Tara are splitting up, does that mean Tara isn't going to be in the   
wedding?"  
  
The girl rolled her eyes, while Xander replied patiently, "Well, yeah. If they   
stay that way, then it would be too awkward...and possibly mortifying."  
  
"Oh. So that means she won't be giving us a large, expensive wedding present?   
Like say, a vacuum cleaner or a mixer?"  
  
"Ahn--"  
  
"All right, all right," she huffed sullenly. "It just sucks that Willow's   
relationship problem results in us getting one less wedding gift."  
  
Rather than argue with her, he placated her by saying, "But, it does mean one   
less dinner to pay for at the reception..."  
  
"Ooh. Yes. Excellent point, Xander." Her eyes glinted in the light as she   
considered the many ways the money could be spent elsewhere. "What would I do   
without you?"  
  
He sighed, hiding a sudden grin. "I have *no* idea, Anya. And the feeling's   
mutual."  
  
  
****  
  
  
The crowd of people seemed determined to keep Willow from reaching Tara, but she   
didn't let it discourage her. Finally, she elbowed someone out of the way, to   
find Tara sitting at a table with two of her Wiccan friends, oblivious to her   
presence.  
  
"Tara?" Willow began softly, now worried that this had been a mistake, after   
all. The blonde woman spun to face her, surprise etched on her face.  
  
"Oh! Willow. Um, hi," Tara's eyes darted between her lover and her friends.   
"This is Gwen, a-and Patty. Guys, this is Willow."  
  
Gwen waved silently, while Patty ducked her head in embarrassment before saying   
hello. Apparently, news had traveled fast.  
  
"Tara, can I talk to you for a minute? Alone?"  
  
Her friends didn't appear to like the idea, but Tara murmured something to them   
and they left the table for the dance floor. Willow took a chair across from   
Tara, more nervous than she could easily remember.  
  
"I wanted to apologize, Tara. I understand why you left, now. I shut you out,   
and it wasn't...I shouldn't have done that. I never wanted you to leave."  
  
Tara looked at her in sympathy. "I know. But things haven't been right for some   
time. And it's not just you, it's me. I...I hid information about myself to you,   
then tried to hide it by casting a spell that went horribly wrong. Have we   
really ever trusted each other, Willow? Or have we been too afraid to tell the   
truth, afraid that it would destroy our relationship?"  
  
"What...what do you mean?" The fear was beginning to build. It sounded like she   
meant...no, she couldn't mean that. "This isn't a phase. I already told you   
that."  
  
Tara shook her head. "No, I know it's not. I meant we're too unsure of   
ourselves, too scared to think it isn't perfect. We've tried so hard not to   
fight, and all it's done is make things worse."  
  
"But I know where I went wrong, now, Tara! I won't do it again, I promise. Just-  
-just don't leave me." Like Oz did, Willow finished silently.  
  
"I'm not leaving your life, Willow. But I think...it would be wise to step away   
for awhile. We need--I need space. Time to process, think about us...you   
understand, right?"  
  
A little bit of Willow's heart died, but she smiled through the pain. In a way,   
she did understand. "Yeah, I do. I need to be more stable, and forthcoming.   
Maybe...maybe we could talk later? Not soon, but just, well, later sometime?"  
  
Tara smiled wanly. "Yeah, sometime."  
  
Willow nodded, realizing the talk was over. They weren't together anymore, not   
unless Tara had a sudden change of heart. She wandered away from the table and   
back to her own, noticing but not registering the sight of Buffy and Spike on   
the dance floor. It seemed surreal, but so did everything, now...maybe it was a   
coping mechanism. She wasn't sure whether to be grateful for the numbness, or   
afraid of it.  
  
  
****  
  
  
The pounding rhythm of the music gave way to a slow-paced ballad, and the   
singles left the dance floor in deference to the couples. Spike pulled Buffy in,   
reveling in this newfound closeness and affection.  
  
Her arms wrapped around his neck as he held her, and his eyes closed from the   
overload of sensation. He focused on the feel of her in his arms, the warmth   
radiating from her body, the suppleness of her skin underneath her clothes, the   
grace in the way she moved with him, flowing into every step as if it was   
choreographed beforehand.  
  
This synchrony they shared was new, and yet it felt ancient, as if it had always   
been there, waiting for a time to emerge. The newness was in the method, the   
dance that went from fighting to polite turns on the floor of the Bronze, and   
hopefully, a not-so-polite dance of sorts in the future.  
  
He smiled at the thought, then focused on the rhythm of her breathing, the beat   
of her heart against his stilled one. For a brief moment, he mourned the fact it   
was one thing they wouldn't share, but it passed quickly. All he could ever hope   
for was in his arms, and he'd be a fool not to be grateful for it.  
  
There were still a lot of questions needing answers, not the least of which was   
the likelihood of the future, and what it held for them. Spike understood the   
realities of their lives, and knew neither one of them were likely to have the   
'happily ever after'. It wasn't pleasant to think about, but he knew Buffy felt   
the same way, and had accepted her fate.   
  
Whatever the cost, though, he vowed to make sure that ending was as far in the   
future as possible.   
  
"Spike, look at me," Buffy whispered, her breath warm against his skin. He   
opened his eyes as requested, gazing down at her with an openness and love that   
went unparalleled in his entire existence.  
  
She was smiling lazily at him, happy and content in a way he'd never seen from   
her, before. "I love it when you look at me like that."  
  
"Like what?" He teased, trying not to smirk.  
  
"Like I'm the most fabulous, gorgeous woman on the planet, and there's no one   
else in the world you'd rather be with."  
  
Her obvious love and admiration for him made him feel strong and weak at the   
same time. Somehow, despite it all, he managed to keep his voice steady,   
"Because it's true, love. Every word, every syllable."  
  
She closed her eyes, a slight, wondering smile on her face, then she sighed and   
remarked, "Oh boy, am I in trouble. I didn't think I could be in love with you   
any more than I was, but you just proved me wrong. And for once, I don't mind."  
  
It took him a second to digest that, then he smiled in amazed delight. Suddenly,   
he couldn't grasp the idea of their relationship not standing up against the   
tide of fate and destiny. In her actions and words, he found the hope he'd been   
searching for.  
  
They would make it. It wouldn't be easy, or ideal, but he knew that together,   
they could beat the odds. He tightened his hold on her and replied, "Know what?   
Same goes for me, Buffy."  
  
She gave him a vaguely puzzled, yet amused, look. He could tell she wanted to   
ask, but instead, she contented herself with leaning in and placing her lips   
over his, a short kiss filled with the promise of more to come.  
  
  
~*Fini*~  
  



End file.
